


Cerebral Fishnet Bomb

by Sonamae



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coding bombs, Crack, Fluff, Interdependent Relationship, Original Character(s), Other, Personality Swap, Personality adaption, strange science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is tired of the war at this point, so Soundwave puts together a bomb with some of the top scientists on both sides to humble his ever delightful Lord and Master Megatron.  Only Soundwave, Megatron, Optimus Prime, and Jazz get stuck in the bomb's range.  Under the white flag of peace, they all need to learn to live with each other's personalities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Insert Disc One

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday gift for my Amica darling. There are several parts to this. It's pure crack.
> 
> There is no forgiveness to ask of you because I have no regret in writing this.

“ _Three full rotations of peace, do you understand me_?” Optimus Prime’s voice boomed from the playback deck in Soundwave’s chest. “ _If I see any of you even make an itch toward your guns or your gun systems, I’ll… I’ll…_ ” there was a long pause and Soundwave puffed out his chest. This was his favorite part.

It was Megatron’s too, and he sat there in his quarters with fingers twisting and a reserved smile on his face.

“ _I’ll be_  very _disappointed in all of you_.” The warlord recited the words overtop Optimus’ own and _giggled_ at the stunned silence that followed the recording before it flipped off. Not that any mecha besides Soundwave would realize it was a giggle, but Megatron was positively delighted right now. “Oh how I wish I could have seen their _faces_.” The warlord said with a sigh.

Soundwave nodded, head turned toward the window port. A jellyfish rotatary floated by and blinked its bioluminescence at him. Soundwave blinked binary lights back out of habit.

“Ship Status: Fully Operational within orn. Video feed entirely possible if Casseticon Laserbeak or Casseticon Ravage were within range.” Soundwave watched that look of absolute delight widen on Megatron’s face.

And by that he meant that Megatron’s smile lifted a small tick at the corner of his mouth.

“My darling friend, I never know how you do it, but you will never cease to amaze.” Megatron reached out, hands looping over Soundwave’s as a softer smile reserved for only the two of them came out. Soundwave just beamed behind his mask.

“Soundwave: Superior.” The Communicationist teased. What was once a threat was now just a joke, and peace was right there under their flight tips. “Mission: To see that smile again.” He used a recording of his old voice, narrowing his visor just because he could. Megatron’s laugh boomed throughout the room.

It didn’t even cut short when Starscream walked in, which startled him to no end. He stopped, looked between the two, then narrowed his eyes at Soundwave’s ample tape deck.

“Are you serious? Again?” Starscream crossed his arms as Megatron let Soundwave’s hands go and stood. “You’re going to listen to that so often the tape wears, and he wasn’t the only one to help make that possible. You have an entire army, a cranky army mind you, but an entire army waiting for your address.” Starscream used both his arms to swing and wave at the door.

He looked rather tired.

Megatron advanced the few steps it took to meet Starscream and placed both hands on his shoulders. They had a quiet conversation, simple and soft. Soundwave was obviously recording it to listen to later, but for now he tuned them out. Out of respect obviously.

Starscream’s hackles eased and his optics shuttered, his weight leaning into Megatron as he stood there running on fumes. Soundwave wanted to cuddle him, but that would honestly irritate the Prince more than fix his situation.

… He sent a message to his trine mates instead. Let them get the brunt of Starscream’s hissy fit if it meant he actually took this peace thing seriously.

Megatron leaned down, planting the softest kiss to Starscream’s forehelm. “Well then, will you accompany me to address my army, or would you rather stay in the berth and get some well needed rest?” Megatron didn’t even tease Starscream about the delighted twitches in his wings. They drooped low after a few kliks and the Prince let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll accompany you.” Oh Primus he sounded so resigned. His fate was so miserable, here lies Starscream, rest in fragging pieces on the floor.

“There’s my second.” Megatron said cheerily, and he turned toward the door and walked out of the room toward the hall. “Come on you two, can’t keep them waiting.” He called over his shoulder.

Starscream turned to Soundwave and narrowed his optics, wings hitched upward and pulled in tight.

“I still don’t like it, make it stop.” Starscream muttered as Soundwave strode forward and turned him around. He gave him the gentlest nudges toward the door and they began walking.

“Negative. For the good of the cause.” Soundwave used clips of Megatron’s voice and Starscream looked over to narrow his eyes at him.

“Don’t you sass me you overgrown boom box,” Starscream pouted, “I don’t understand why he’s more affectionate. The Prime isn’t grouchier is he?” When Soundwave shook his head no, Starscream huffed and crossed both his arms. “It had to have worked both ways, you don’t just explode a Cerebral Fishnet bomb and expect it to only affect one mech.” The science had been driving Starscream ragged.

Soundwave took pity on the poor thing and reached out to tweek one of his wings.

Starscream shrieked and swatted at his hands.

“Play nice you two,” Megatron warned from ahead of the hallway, “we’re almost there. Stop fighting.” There was no death defying anger that Starscream was so used to, just playful teasing.

He frowned harder.

“I still don’t like it.” He crossed his arms and pouted, but Soundwave just chuckled silently as they entered the ships main hall.

Three full Earth rotations of peace, three Earth months of doing absolutely nothing! Soundwave was an absolute genius.

\--

“Soundwave is an absolutely moron.” Jazz muttered as he stood in the crowd that milled in the main hall of the Nemesis. “Does he really think this will work? That Catfish thing-”

“Cerebral Fishnet.” Mirage corrected beside him, still invisible and still haughty.

“Is going to wear off, then what are we going to do, go right back to fighting? We’ll be rusty and get the floor wiped with us while Megatron up there has everyone running drills for three months.” Jazz glared at a passing mecha and they gave him a happy wave. He deflated. “I don’t like it.”

“He’s making his address.” Mirage pointed out. The crowd was murmuring now, a warm silence blanketing the hall.

Megatron stood in front of a podium, a connecter jacked into Soundwave’s speakers, and he looked out onto his sea of mecha and seemed to relax.

“The rumors are true,” was how he started, and every fragging mecha on that ship zipped it right the frag up, “A bomb did go off in the last fight with the Autobot forces those two vorn ago. As you can see though, I am perfectly fine, your leader in unaffected.” Megatron took a step aside from the podium to show off his frame.

“Unaffected my shiny steel tailpipe.” Jazz muttered.

Mirage elbowed him.

“Those who were with me fought valiantly, and this war has been curbing toward its end for cycles now. Because of that…” Jazz watched as Megatron took in a slow, deliberate vent.

“This is it, he’s going to ruin everything.” Jazz whispered. Mirage just papped his cheek and hushed him from thin air.

“I am going to call a three Earth Roational truce.” There was a mild uproar that silenced the moment Megatron lifted his hand. “We have fought and worked ourselves to our bare struts, we are low on fuel, on ammo, on _will_.” Jazz kept his comment to himself that time. “I have spoken to Optimus Prime, both sides will be under a cease fire so we may recuperate. If I see any of you put a ped out of line, I will personally rip the entire offending leg off.” The crowd was quiet, and then Megatron waved a hand. “Dismissed.”

And then the uproar started.

It wasn’t in anger, in fact it was the opposite. Everyone was absolutely delighted, and Jazz looked to his side and blinked at nothing. Well, no, he blinked at the Decepticon next to him, but he was also blinking at Mirage and his invisible aft.

“I… did that just happen?” Jazz asked aloud. The Decepticon next to him, a mini propped again a huge canon, looked up through a bright visor.

“Pretty sure it did.” They said with a smirk. “Hey, cute paint job.” There was a glint in that tiny visor that made Jazz feel very uncomfortable. Over his comm line, Mirage snickered.

“Thanks, you too.” Jazz muttered. Was he being called out as a spy or was he honestly getting hit on right now?

“Cute aft too, you doing anything for the rotation, or anyone?” Optic ridges wiggled at him as the minibot leaned over their canon suggestively.

Over his comm, Mirage cackled and sent a distress signal to Ironhide.

‘ _Help Help I can’t get an intake, Jazz is getting hit on again_!’

“Uhh…” This wasn’t new, this happened all the time.

‘ _Again_?’ Boomed over the comm line. ‘ _Peel out of there you two, or I’ll never see anything but Jazz’s tailpipe in my reports for vorns_.’

Ahh right, _Seven Ways to Make Peace: Own up or Aft up_. Such a fun report.

“I’ve got a habsuite all to myself.” The mini said, seeing the look of hesitation on Jazz’s disguised face. “Or am I making you uncomfortable, am I making you uncomfortable? We could just cuddle, cuddling is tame right?” The mini hummed and Jazz drooped his shoulders.

‘ _Oh how has he survived the Decepticon’s_?’ Mirage asked over open comm, and that got nothing but questions all around.

“Cuddling sounds nice,” Jazz muttered, “But you have to promise not to hate me in the morning.” He pointed a finger at the mech, who smirked in delight. There wasn’t much of a height difference, but it was enough to make Jazz look down just a smidge.

‘ _Seriously_? _Again_?’ Mirage asked, private comm this time. ‘ _Don’t tell me I have to watch you sleep with_  another _con_.’

Jazz sighed, then perked up. “Hey, do you have a friend who is into blue mechs? Platonically into them I mean, like wow check out the cuddle monster into them. Cause I have this friend.”

‘ _Jazz no_!’

‘ _Jazz yes_!’

‘ _Prowl is going to be so angry at you_.’

‘ _Prowl is going to ask for image captures you mean. I’ll clear it with him before I_  actually _do anything_.’

\--

Prowl definitely did _not_ ask for image captures. Prowl found what happened and read Jazz the riot act.

Mirage filmed it.


	2. Insert Disco Two

The first day of peace saw Soundwave sprawled out at his communications desk of the Nemesis with the window shutters flown wide open. Light poured in and Soundwave basked in it, half his processor dozing while the other half ran watch programs. The joy of having a split processor, he could very easily multitask.

Across the floor, Starscream was literally laying flat beneath a pile of _most_ of his Armada who had all happily climbed atop their leader and fallen into recharge. The Air Commander was playing holo chess with someone online, probably Skyfire if his scowl meant anything, but other than that he lay perfectly still while his ‘little winglets’ snoozed in the sun.

Almost everyone on the Nemesis was in some form of recharge at this point, and Soundwave, the part of him that was awake at least, was delighted by that. When was the last time everyone got to charge in? And unless you were an early bird by nature, looking at you Starscream, turning down your battle protocols left you drowsy and foggy after having them on for so long of your life, so of course they were still in recharge.

Most mecha still had their battle protocols primed and ready, sure, but because of the mass lethargy of the rest of the crew, even _they_ got to charge in. There were no active threats, no tension stringing protocols higher, just a ship full of sleepy Decepticons and a chess playing Starscream.

Unicorn below, even _Megatron_ was sort of dozing.

Emphasis on sort of.

“He’s going to take your rook.” Megatron muttered from his spot in his chair, peering over at Starscream’s screen.

“I’d like to see him try.” A few kliks of silence. “Fragger, every time. I want a rematch.” It just wasn’t home if Starscream didn’t find _something_ to complain about.

Soundwave shifted on the seat, the sun edging toward the horizon as they waited out the day. From his scanners, he could tell that four Seekers were outside the ship, darting their wingtips in the water occasionally as they flew about in lazy trick flight.

Above him directly on the flight deck, a few grounders were taking their extra energy out on putting brand new skid marks on the shining take off surface as they raced.

Everything was so utterly peaceful. Something had to go wrong eventually. Soundwave closed his optics and thought back to what led them here in the first place.

One particularly violent outburst from Megatron, one broken wing strut, and a breakdown from Starscream that led the Prince to honest tears of frustration as his trine forcibly held him down.

Skywarp had marched into Soundwave’s room and demanded some kind of compensation for his leader, that Megatron had gone too far, they would revolt, Megatron would loose his Armada, etc etc ad nausea.

This wasn’t the first time he’d heard this shpeel, Starscream recited it every other week.

This _was_ the first time he’d heard it from Skywarp though, and the honest look of boiling anger as his vents flared meant that Megatron had finally pushed the Vosian’s over the edge.

So Soundwave had sighed internally and promised to fix the situation. The Decepticon’s needed their Seekers, they needed their sweet, angry metal avian army. Megatron needed to be dunked in the artic so he’d cool off already.

Soundwave had assembled Starscream, Shockwave via a video call, Perceptor and Wheeljack under a white flag of truce, and Brainstorm, and they formed a secret council of sorts.

Thus the group had argued, plotted, fought, and finally come up with the Cerebral Fishnet bomb. Meant to explode upward, expand outward, and drag every personality near it inward to the mecha(s) in range.

Who just so happened to be Megatron, Optimus Prime, Soundwave, and Jazz. Soundwave had seen an instant change in his internal output, his personality processor ticking with new numbers and a sense of delight he hadn’t felt in… well, eons. Megatron had been knocked on his aft, and Soundwave had found that hilarious.

And he’d found _that_ horrifying, that much emotion slipping through when he could have sworn he’d snuffed it out millions of years ago. He must have gotten bits of Jazz’ personality slipped into his own, which wasn’t terrible, but it was enough of a change to make him unnerved. Megatron’s temper had all but disappeared from what Soundwave had seen, and in its place was the shadow that had started the revolution Soundwave had fallen in love with. Here was the mecha that had stirred the sparks of millions, who had stood up for a cause that had changed the future. Megatron was no longer a warlord to be feared, but a warlord that Soundwave felt pride in following once again.

Once they had dragged themselves back to the Nemesis, Soundwave had let slip a sigh and bumped into his chair at his communications desk. The new coding was having a hard time settling in his processor, and could very easily be purged if it got much worse, but Megatron had seen him stumble.

Megatron had seen it and thought the worst if his reaction was anything to go by. He’d called Prime with the most serious expression.

“We need a truce.” Was all he said, not even a gloating sneer or ‘ _Hello_  Optimus,’ like he normally opened with. He was blunt and to the point, and that took the Prime by surprise.

“After how many millennia and you finally want a truce?!” Someone in the background had shouted.

“Hush Ironhide, the big mecha are talking.” Jazz’s teasing voice said. There was the sound of someone getting smacked over the helm with a datapad. Bless Prowl, or Ratchet, either way Soundwave knew it was one of the two. “Oww, rude.”

“Orion,” The name was old and held more meaning than it should have coming out of Megatron’s mouth, “I’m _tired_ , dear friend.” The look on Optimus Prime’s face.

Soundwave could have sold tickets.

That was that though, one conversation and here they were, flying under the white flag of peace and basking in a sunbeam. Megatron grunted and Soundwave onlined one side of his visor. His commander was nudging Starscream with his ped, looking lazily at the screen.

“He’s going to check you in three moves.” Megatron muttered. Starscream huffed and waved at the screen.

“Then you play against him, by all means.” The air commander muttered. “… Alright, who has their turbine there, get your turbine out of there.” He turned around and smacked at a few of his Seekers. They snickered and mumbled drowsily, shifting amass themselves before settling back down. “Bunch of winglets I swear.” Starscream muttered, but oh was he smiling.

“Can you promise me they won’t grope me this time?” Megatron asked.

“Even if I _could_ promise you that, with the state you're in now, I never would.” Starscream remarked with a little flutter of his wings. It wasn’t as impressive since they were buried under Acid Storm’s face.

Megatron huffed and crawled onto the floor, laying next to Starscream and his small mass of Seekers. A dark hand reached out and patted at Megatron’s shoulder and back.

“Hello to you too Thundercraker,” Megatron muttered, “yes, yes I am very happy to see you… Acid Storm remove your hand from my aft or I’ll remove it from your wrist.” There was no heat in his voice like there might have been, but there was a fondness. “How _do_ you put up with your amorous little flock?” Megatron muttered as he moved a chess piece on the screen.

“I take them flying and they behave for a few joors.” Starscream answered, but then realized the question had been rhetorical as soon as Megatron chuckled. “Oh hush.”

The room fell back into silence and Soundwave turned his visor off, back to soaking up the sunlight with his solar paneled tape deck.

A few quite kliks went by.

“Acid Storm.” Megatron’s voice said in warning.

“Oh no, that was me that time.” Starscream said with a snicker.

Megatron just sighed. “Check.” Soundwave opened his visor to see Megatron pointing at the screen, then narrowing his optics. “Wait… no, how did they do that? That’s got to be illegal.” Starscream laughed.

“I’ve been saying that all day.”

\--

Rumble and Frenzy were exhausted. They’d taken the truce as a sour note, then a delightful one, but now they were right back to finding it sour. Given a few more days they’d really decide, but that was beside the point. To get over their current dislike of the situation, they’d gotten their Carrier a present.

Above them, Laserbeak was preening her feathers and chirping little laughs as the two Casseticons struggled to set it up. She had offered to assist them early on, but a biting retort had her flying into the rafters. See if she offered assistance _ever_ again.

… She obviously would, but sometimes it was good to remind the twins how stupid they could be.

Beside her, Buzzsaw snored under his wing and let out a soft hiccup. She scooted closer and nuzzled him.

Ravage was watching the entire spectacle with the same aloofness he held for everything. Which was to say he watched it and didn’t lift a single paw to help.

Sure, the twins had tried to sweet talk Ravage into helping, but that was like trying to talk a piece of dirt into becoming a sentient diamonoid creature.

‘ _But it’s for the Boss_.’

‘ _Yeah Ravage, the Boss_.’

‘ _You know you wanna help out the Boss_.’

Ravage had done nothing but flip his tail at them and stayed perched happily on Soundwave’s berth. Rumble and Frenzy scowled and set up the present themselves. If they weren’t going to get help, fine, they’d get all the affection and not share any of it when the Boss came back from his shift.

That would show them.

\--

Turns out you need a bulb for a giant heating lamp. Go figure right? Where the hell were Rumble and Frenzy going to get a light bulb for a heating lamp?

“Who do we know that’s hot headed enough to carry light bulbs?”

“…”

“Oh, right.”

\--

‘ _Announcement: Future note to all Casseticons, do_  not _ask Starscream for a “giant light bulb the size of his bright light head.” Repeat of such disasters will not be tolerated_.’

‘ _Soundwave: Is delighted by the present anyway_.’


	3. Insert Disc Three

Optimus Prime was _miserable_ right now, which was saying something. Sure, he was delighted by the truce, but his Autobots couldn’t take a good thing and run with it, not even if he had Prowl staple it to their hoods. Everyone was constantly on edge, ready to start a fight or finish one, and he was getting really tired of it in ways he’d never felt before. He’d called Megatron before crawling into his berth to find out that the Warlord looked absolutely _cheery_. Healthier even. It was a bizarre sight.

“Our food supply is up after only a day, less trips to medical too, although I assume that’s because everyone has been in recharge. My mecha are actually listening to me. It’s only been an Earth Day Optimus and everyone is so _relaxed_.”

He’d never wanted to punch Megatron in the face so much, but it was an easy urge to put aside.

“I’m so glad,” Optimus said with his usual smile, “seems this truce really was needed.” Except for the fact that none of his bots wanted it. None of them could hold still long enough to relax, he worried they’d been fighting so long that they forgot there was more to life than fists.

“I am too, my old friend,” Megatron’s smile made Optimus’ spark twitter, “how has your vacation from the war been? Gotten as much sleep as I have I suppose?”

Oh, he wasn’t even trying to rub it in. He was just genuinely curious. Optimus was going to purge these new personality codes as soon as this call was over, he did _not_ need to feel upset about something so trivial.

“I’m afraid I’ve been too busy having fun to sleep in.” And by fun he meant ‘ _No put the laser darts away they still count as a weapon_.’

Megatron laughed, full brilliance and delight. “I’m so glad, maybe we can meet under the cease fire and talk in person one of these days. I would like to converse to you without guns in our hands.” Optimus paused, but nodded. He wanted that too, he’d forgotten how much he missed that smile. “Oh, hold that thought,” Megatron leaned out of screen, “Brawl, put Onslaught back on the floor, you can’t throw one of your gestalt mates at the rest of them… yes even if they said that… Blast Off apologize before I let Brawl throw something else at you.” Megatron laughed again and shook his helm.

“Sounds like they’re having fun.” Optimus said as he leaned forward and put his chin in his hands.

“Oh, they are. I never realized how carefree any of them were, I had always kept the reigns on them so tight I… I forgot they needed to have fun once in a while.” Megatron looked away guiltily and Optimus wanted to climb through the screen and hug him.

“It’s our _future_ that we will look forward to, my friend. Our pasts led us to this point, let us make up for them now with peace.” Optimus shared his own smile this time, hoping it would help. Megatron nodded, relaxing on screen before there was a loud crash.

‘ _He did it_!’ Came a chorus of several voices in unison. Megatron sighed.

“I’ll have to call you tomorrow, my friend. It seems I need to finish something.” Optimus laughed as Megatron stood up and crossed his arms. “Alright, what did you break?”

\--

Jazz had been quiet, _too_ quite, and Prowl did _not_ like that. The only time Jazz was _quiet_ was when he was plotting something. That or he pulled on a mask and did a sort of ‘I’m in yer base’ kind of quiet that he was so fond of. Still, he just wasn’t talking and that unnerved Prowl. If drastic action needed to be taken, it _would_ be.

He called the twins and encouraged them to talk to Jazz and bring him back to his office. When he arrived his processor ache started.

“I... just... why?” Prowl asked as Jazz huffed from his spot in the center of the room.

“He didn’t want to come with us, so we tied him to a chair.” Sunstreaker said before plopping down on the couch. He said it as if it was the only logical outcome, and Sideswipe gave Prowl a meek smile.

“Really?” Jazz asked. “You had them _tie me up_? You could have just comm’d me.” Prowl dragged in an intake and walked around him, rubbing his optics. When he sat down at his desk Jazz glared at him, so he motioned at the door. Sideswipe nodded and stuck his head out.

“Prowl says it’s okay!” He shouted down the hall.

“I did no such thing as to tell them to tie you to a chair,” Prowl folded his fingers over each other as several mechs entered the room. “I simply asked them to bring you in for… an intervention, of sorts.”

Jazz’s visor narrowed and he leaned forward, very obviously unrestrained by the ropes. “An intervention.” It wasn’t a question, just a baffled statement.

“Prowl didn’t stutter, and I know you ain’t hearing impaired.” Ironhide said as he gave Jazz’s shoulder a hard slap. Jazz lurched forward with an ‘oof’ and gripped the arms of the chair, a skeptical flash of visor flicking up at his friend.

“You’ve been too quiet,” Mirage said as he plopped across the corner of Prowl’s desk, “we’re concerned.” He paused, then looked back to the molten glare Prowl was giving him. He stood up and brushed himself off. Right.

No desk for Mirage.

“I haven’t been quiet.” Jazz countered.

Bumblebee crossed his arms and pouted. “I told a joke about Starscream and you didn’t even snicker. You've been quiet.”

The look of dawning horror on Jazz’s face was worth Prowl’s weight in gold. He opened his mouth to protest, but Ratchet nodded.

“Like a glitch-mouse.” Ratchet stage whispered.

“Oh… oh gross.” Even with his visor, Jazz’s face looked utterly distressed. “Oh no, I got Soundwave didn’t I? Gross, I’ve got _Soundwave_ cooties, eww eww eww get them out get them out!” He started squirming against the ropes and Prowl rolled his optics at his obvious theatrics.

“Jazz, please stop turning this into a joke.” Prowl muttered. Ratchet took out a tool kit and nodded toward Ironhide.

“Why? It’s just a bit of programming making me think before I talk, I thought that’s what you always wanted. A nice quiet-” Hands grabbed his shoulders and his visor narrowed into a slit. “Frag off!”

The room erupted in glitter and paint.

“… That was _utterly_ rude.” Prowl snapped as he stood up and snatched a rag out of his subspace, scrubbing at his plating. Pink just wasn’t his color. Where had Jazz even gotten pink paint?

“You started it, trying to forcibly remove codes from me? You know better Prowler.” Jazz said as he shrugged the ropes off and caught the rag Sunstreaker threw him. He walked over, waiting for a nod from his friend, then knelt and started scrubbing at the Second’s leg. “Disguising a forcible removal for an intervention? Shame shame.”

Bumblebee snickered. “That was pretty funny though, you gotta admit.” The minibot muttered as he wiped his face clean. “How did you come up with that?” Beside him, Sideswipe and Ironhide were still glaring at Mirage and Sunstreaker.

The two had thrown the others in front of them to avoid the paints as it exploded across plating, and the glitter. Oh Primus the _glitter_. Poor Ratchet would be scrubbing that slag out of his seams for _eons_.

Ratchet had taken a few steps forward, clicked the box open, and Jazz had grunted and bent forward after cutting the ropes off the chair with the blades in his arms. He’d throw his hands and his doors up and the internal air bags had exploded in the room, covering anyone who hadn’t immediately stepped out of sight in paint and glitter.

“I had time to think about that one, actually.” Jazz muttered. “It seems all I’ve been doing lately is thinking up really silly ways to defend myself, things no one would see coming.” He shrugged and pulled the rag back, happy that Prowl’s leg was as good as it was going to get. How he had even gotten paint on his leg still confused him.

He looked up and watched paint drip off the front of Prowl’s bumper.

Oh.

Well.

That was how.

“Yeah, but _where_ did you get airbags filled with paint and glitter? Wouldn't it have dried out? How did you do it?” Bumblebee asked, much to Sideswipe’s delight.

“Yes, where did you-”

“Do _not_ tell them.” Prowl warned, already pointing an accusatory finger at the twins, then at Bumblebee.

“Aww.” The sound of three defeated pranksters made Jazz snicker. Jazz took pity on them though and sent them a direct ping to a shop on New Hexahedron. The three of them remained looking downcast, save for the glint in Sunstreaker’s optics.

Prowl, thankfully, didn’t notice. He was too busy scrubbing at his bumper to look up and berate Jazz for going against his direct orders.

“Need any help?” Jazz offered, more than willing to get his hands on with that safety gear.

Prowl gave him a very strict look and nodded toward Ratchet. “Not as much as he does.” Because of course Ratchet had taken the brunt of it. Jazz resigned himself to merely dreaming about fondling those headlights and went over to offer Ratchet some much needed assistance.

Just then, Optimus opened the door and looked up from the datapad he’d been reading. Whatever he’d been about to say was lost on his lips as he took in the room, then he let out a long suffering sigh.

“I’ll go get the pressure washer, _again_.” He mumbled. Prowl’s door wings drooped and Ironhide sighed.

“Well, looks like at least one a you was able to delete their rogue protocols without any trouble. If any a that Megatron was still in him, he’d have chewed us to the bit.” Wiping one hand down his face and flinging it to the floor, Ironhide smirked. “Though I gotta admit, I do miss the fight he used to put up. He’s back to being all docile and martry again.”

Prowl huffed. “Trust me, we know.”


	4. Insert Disc Four

Megatron knew he had foreign code in his system, he also knew his officers were trying to keep it a secret. Honestly, every time they tried to pull one over on him he just let them to watch it explode in their faces. One of his first clues had been when Soundwave displayed signs of being affected by the strange bomb they’d set off. Soundwave was never affected by anything, he’d had both his arms ripped off before and hadn’t even blinked, so this was highly suspicious. Of course Megatron had run a systems scan and found the codes, they were completely harmless lines of script to curb his personality. The Carrier had just needed to get used to the code or delete it, and Megatron knew that when he’d caught his friend stumbling against his chair, but he’d used it as an excuse.

If his elite were so tired of this war that they were going to implant _Optimus_ _Prime’s_ personality coding into him, he knew it had gone on _long_ _enough_. And yes, he _knew_ it belonged to Optimus. No one in any galaxy was this cheerful or this optimistic _all_ the fragging _time_.

Sure, Megatron still felt rage boiling inside of him every time he breathed, but it was dulled by the personality coding to make him think before he lashed out. The bomb had given him back a dose of patience he’d thought he’d lost forever. It had given him hope that this could work in his favor instead of blowing up in his face.

… huh, interesting choice of words.

At least Starscream had been unaffected. Life just wouldn’t be proper if his prized Seeker somehow stopped being _cranky_.

Megatron could honestly say he did regret hurting Starscream on occasion when he was that cranky, but it was only a regret for a split second before he remembered why he’d struck the Seeker to begin with.

“Scoot _over_.” Starscream muttered across the room. “Your hogging all the comfortable bits on Dirge.”

“You’re a comfortable bit.” Dirge muttered from the bottom of the pile.

The sun hadn’t even been out for ten minutes, the ground was still cold save where the Seekers thrusters had burnt bits of it for their pile. Megatron was sprawled out on a rock next to Soundwave as the Carrier lazily pet one of his Cassettes, watching the second day of their truce unfold. Thank goodness they’d found an island to settle next to.

Nothing was happening though, no fights or excitement.

It was delightful.

“Get your finger out of there!” Skywarp yelped before he slapped Thundercracker on the thigh.

“Hey! That wasn’t my finger!” The Seeker bellowed.

“Sorry, I thought you were Starscream. I was trying to tickle him.” Ramject mumbled before he let out a long yawn.

“I am _not_ ticklish.” Starscream shrieked.

Megatron snorted and all the Seekers looked up at him, as if waiting for instructions. Soundwave looked over at him, face impassive and unreadable because of his mask. His helm turned back to the Seeker pile and he continued stroking Laserbeak’s plating. Smirking, Megatron turned and waved a hand at the pile.

“By all means, make a liar out of him.” Megatron said. Not even a split second later had Starscream let out a shrill sound as he bolted into the air, chassed by a cackling group.

Soundwave turned to Megatron, his visor lighting up. “Starscream: Will seek retaliation.” Soundwave said, a soft tilt to his head. “Future explosion: Much big.” Laserbeak trilled in agreement.

“Since when did you use the Earthlings internet to your advantage?” Megatron asked, knowing full well the change was brought on by a new set of codes. At least, he hoped that was what it was. If Soundwave was suddenly going to start acting cheerful at every turn the mecha under his charge might stop being afraid of him. Soundwave held his position through force and fear, Megatron couldn’t think of a war without him.

But that only made him think of a time before the war. A time when Soundwave had been on his last struts and ready to quit, ready to let himself slip in the arena and have his final moments be blissful to the sound of the roaring crowd around him. Megatron remembered that conversation in confidence, and he remembered how much it had hurt his spark to have Soundwave cry on his berth and await the next match.

That beautiful soft Carrier spark had turned hard as Titanium, cold as dry ice. He stopped trusting people during the revolution, and Megatron remembered the soft smile and how it had disappeared behind a battle mask.

“Soundwave: Unsure. Change, disagreeable?” He asked, and Megatron turned to him and reached out.

“I’m not sure, it’s different… may I?” His fingers hovered over the battle mask and Soundwave’s visor dimmed before he retracted the plate. There was a thick scar down his nose and across his cheek that stopped just at his helm line, then another that cut down at the corner of his mouth. They were nasty welds, patchwork jobs that Megatron had personally done out of fear for his friend.

He traced a finger over the scar on Soundwave’s lips and noticed there wasn’t a single trace of a flinch. Soundwave, his beautiful unmovable mountain. Forever his shadow, forever loyal.

“I have put you through unspeakable pits, haven’t I?” Megatron muttered as he drew his hand away.

Soundwave looked down and offered the slightest twitch of his lips, perhaps something that should have been a weak smile.

“Soundwave: Loyal to Megatron, would follow him into another pit if that was what he wished.” His lips didn’t move, but the voice from his speakers was loud and clear. He shifted on the rock, redirecting Laserbeak to his shoulder before glancing upward. He looked back at Megatron and smiled, a real, genuine smile.

Then his battle mask snapped shut and he rolled off the rock.

Megatron had a total of three seconds to register his confusion before a vat of freezing ocean water was dumped onto his chassi, accompanied by the sound of several hysterical Seekers.

He looked up, glaring at each and every one of them. Their laughter cut short, their wings trembling in absolute fear. He could swear he saw their plating dull.

“Whose idea was it?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level. Every finger pointed at Starscream, while Starscream pointed at Dirge.

“Hey!”

“Starscream, I’m going to give you to the count of three.” Megatron muttered before he stood on the rock and shook out his legs. He felt his thrusters heat up in his peds. “And when I finish counting, I’m going to fly up there, catch you, and dunk you in the water until you apologize to not only me, but your ‘ _winglets_.’” He revved his engine and extended his flight panels.

“Huh, I figured he’d have threatened to rip something off of you.” Skywarp said as he turned to his Trine leader. “At least it isn’t death.”

“One!” Megatron bellowed.

Starscream suddenly became a very small dot on the horizon, his trine giggling and following after him.

“Two!”

\--

It was noon when Starscream and Megatron came back, the Vosian dripping wet with seaweed over one wing. Megatron was smirking as he led his Second onto the flight deck of the Nemesis, and Soundwave met them at the door as the rest of the Seekers scattered about and found places to sprawl out. Thundercracker and Skywarp were missing from the group.

“Not a word out of you.” Starscream mumbled as he shouldered passed Soundwave. “Where are my winglets? Where is Skywarp, he needs his aft slapped so many times his optics short out.”

Soundwave was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to have heard that, but oh well. Something to keep a tab on.

‘ _Buzzsaw: Awake_?’

His Cassette responded by sighing indignantly.

‘ _Not anymore_.’

‘ _Misson: Find and trail Seeker Skywarp. Record on all frequencies available to you_.’

There was a trill of delight at the prospect of blackmail, and Buzzsaw agreed with a warm nudge across the bond.

Megatron stood in the doorway and took in a deep vent. “You know…” he chuckled, “there is nothing like dunking Starscream in the ocean to make your day better. Now, join me for an energon cube and a possible call to Prime, oh his high and mighty?” He offered his arm and Soundwave smiled, reaching out to take it without hesitation.

He really hoped this coding never wore off.

\--

Ratchet settled Optimus onto the med berth and rubbed his friends back until he stopped mumbling his censored curses. There had to have been a breaking point, but it was only the second day and Ratchet honestly hadn’t thought his friend would break this soon. He’d figured he’d have wiped the code after the first week.

“It’s like I’m seeing you all for the first time after a long time.” Optimus muttered as Ratchet turned toward the wall and snatched a cup out of the dispenser after it beeped. “As if I walked through a portal to another world where you’re all so… so…” The word wouldn’t force itself out. “I used to find it so endearing, but now everything just _drains_ me. I mean look at you, I had to hose you down because you were covered in glitter, how does that even happen?” He ran both his hands down his face and retracted his battle mask when Ratchet shoved the cup at his chest.

“Medical grade, cure all for everything.” Ratchet mumbled as he began hooking Optimus up to several outlets.

“And that right there!” Optimus took the cup and drank from it, grimacing before he continued, “I used to love to listen to you grumble and huff, but now I just… I just want to tell you to stop being so _cranky_. But I love you being cranky at the same time, it’s what makes you so charming.” The distress weighed heavy on Optimus’ voice as he sagged his shoulders further.

Ratchet looked over and smiled, rubbing his friends shoulder. “I thought you’d deleted that coding.” He said with a sly smirk. Of course Optimus hadn’t deleted anything, he was far too… _Optimus_ to half aft something.

“Well, I was going to, but then I really started looking at it and…” He trailed off, letting his engine rev when Ratchet tapped his chest.

The hesitation made Ratchet pause, hooking up the last cords.

“And what?” He asked before crossing his arms. “Optimus Prime you tell me what is going on through that thick martyr plating of yours right now. You can hide from everyone else but I’ve known you-”

“It’s not Megatron’s coding.” Optimus blurted out. Ratchet stared at him, then held up a hand and pressed the back of his palm against his Prime’s fore helm.

“Turn and clear your engine, and what do you mean it’s not Megatron’s? It has to be Megatron’s. You got his, Jazz got Soundwave, Megatron got yours, and Soundwave got Jazz. We all worked this out.” But Ratchet was paying close attention to everything he made Optimus do. When the rumble of his engine ceased, Ratchet pulled out a cord from his wrist. “Do you mind if I take a look at it? Maybe you overlooked-”

“Ratchet, I love you, honestly I do, but I know what Megatron’s coding looks like. This isn’t it.” He opened his medical port anyway. “Megatron is too finely knit together, too smooth right until the edges fray and he gets his temper. This entire thing is temper and… well, crankiness. If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was Starscream’s.” The joke fell flat as Ratchet quickly hooked into his arm.

The silence between them was eerie, but when Ratchet unhooked from him he had a puzzled look in his optics.

“What’s wrong?” Optimus asked.

“Nothing,” Ratchet admitted, “it’s just not Megatron’s coding.” He recoiled his cable and tapped the side of his helm.

“I told you that, do you recognize it?” Optimus muttered as he rubbed his arm. Ratchet just nodded.

“Jazz, there you are, I need you to make your way down to the medbay and then help me get a line out to Soundwave… _no_ you’re not in trouble.” He rolled his optics and reached over to tap the bottom of the cup in the Prime’s hand. “You’re not done with this.” He muttered before turning his helm. “No, not you Jazz, Optimus… no it can’t wait… because we miscalculated with the Cerebral Fishnet Bomb.”

Optimus blinked as he drank his medical grade.

“Yeah… alright, I’ll see you in a few kliks.” Ratchet tapped the side of his helm and slumped against the side of the med berth. “Soundwave and Jazz and Megatron, oh my.” He muttered.

Cup now empty, Optimus drummed his fingers along the side of it. “What about them? What did we miscalculate? Is everyone going to be alright?” He sat up straighter, ready to pull cords out of his arms and run to the science wing to sort everything out, but Ratchet placed a hand on his knee.

“Optimus, everything is fine.” Ratchet said soothingly. “The coding isn’t Megatron’s because it’s more than that. It’s three codes smashed together to create… something new. It’s Soundwave, Megatron, and _Jazz_.” Ratchet let that sink in for a moment.

Optimus looked at his peds, then looked up at Ratchet, then scrunched his face and looked back at his peds. “… how does that work?” He whispered.

“I’m here!” Jazz burst through the door with his arms flung open wide at that very moment. “What happened, are you sure I’m not in trouble? Did you want to play with the… oh, hello Optimus.” Jazz’s laid back demeanor quickly changed to one of servitude. Spinal strut straighter and smile easy. “You okay big guy?”

“He’s fine, just a little shell shocked. Let me see your medical port.” Ratchet pointed at the spare med berth and tapped his ped. “I need to see if you have multiple codes or just one crammed in there.”

Jazz’s visor lit up. “Crammed is a fun word to use.” He muttered, but obeyed his CMO anyway.


	5. Insert Disc Five

“It’s not as severe in your lines,” Ratchet muttered as he finally pulled his cable out of Jazz’s arm, “but it’s still noticeable. It looks more like one of the personalities has taken over the other two for dominance in your processor, where with Optimus it looks like they are all working together to be very… _angry_.” Jazz raised an eyebrow ridge at Ratchet and sat on the offered med berth.

On his own med berth, Optimus tried to hide a pout and whispered. “I’m not angry.”

“And I’m the Queen of England.” Jazz muttered and he rolled the optics behind his visor.

“What?” Optimus blinked and turned to Ratchet for conformation. He simply waved him off though. “No, what does that sweet woman have to do with this, you leave that lovely woman alone Jazz.” Optimus held a hint of a warning in his tone.

“… Right.” Ratchet sighed and rubbed at his left optic. “The C.F.B. seems to have gathered all the personality codes, copied them, and instead of redistributing them one to one, it just made a patch job of them and flung them into already existing code.” Ratchet turned away from the two of them and picked up a datapad that had been sitting on the counter. “I highly advise a code reset before it becomes too integrated.”

Startled, Jazz shook his head. “What do you mean too integrated? I though Jackie said this stuff would just wear off.” His helm tilted a fraction.

“That’s what it was meant to do,” Ratchet said, still occupied with the datapad, “it was _meant_ to either be easily flushed through the system via a reset or fade away as your core personality overpowered it with time. From what I saw though, between the two of you, that’s _not_ going to be so black and white.” Ratchet sighed and lowered the data pad from his view.

“Ratchet… are we going to be alright? That didn’t sound entirely safe.” Optimus he reached up to rub the back of his helm nervously. His battle mask wasn’t up at the moment, so his look of concern was multiplied by the lines around his mouth.

“Well it’s perfectly safe _physically_ speaking, psychologically though… well, I’m a doctor, not a therapist.” Ratchet shrugged and finally set the pad down. “I can’t tell you what the code will do because I’m not an expert in personality data, I only know how to spot it to put on record.”

Jazz crossed his arms slowly after the words sunk in. “What does that mean exactly?” He asked, visor light narrowing.

Optimus groaned and slumped forward before Ratchet started talking again.

“It _means_ , smart aft, that should one of my patients go on an unexplained rampage or for some reason or other need to be analyzed by a member of the psych. field, instead of working from the ground up I can send them what codes I last saw on their checkup. Then that doctor can work from there, it helps get mecha in and out of the office faster.” Ratchet shrugged as he said it, almost like it was something he’d recited many times before.

“It was meant to be a confidential _secret_ Ratchet.” Optimus said, voice low and aggravated.

“Well it can’t really be confidential when I might have to send you two to see a therapist over a code overlapping your current one and changing the very micro of who you _are_.” Ratchet snapped. “Do you think other mecha won’t notice? They already notice.” He huffed and turned toward Jazz. “Do a system reset to before the C.F.B. went off. I want to see if this clears up our issue.”

“Kay.” Jazz’s visor went dark.

“If? Ratchet!” Optimus’ vents hitched and he jumped off his med berth to hurry over to Jazz’s. “You know how dangerous an unprompted reset can be, why would you-” he was cut off when Jazz’s visor lit back up.

“Alright, I’m reset and ready to go.” Jazz said cheerily.

Optimus narrowed his optics. “Oh, right, Special Operations.” He sighed and squeezed Jazz’s arm. Ratchet groaned and hooked back into Jazz’s medical port. “It’s eerie how well you all take to resets. I couldn’t do one without at least an hour to back up my memory files.”

“S’a great thing about being a spy, O.P.” Jazz said as he tapped the side of his helm with his free hand. “I do a system back up every night before I go to sleep. I’ve got every single one neatly organized in here.”

Optimus shook his head and looked to the side. “That sounds more like gift wrapping yourself up in a bow for a hacker.” He admitted.

“Except neat for Jazz is utter chaos to every other mecha in the galaxy.” Ratchet muttered as he closed his optics. “Now be quiet, both of you. I need to concentrate.”

Jazz chuckled and gave the spot on the berth next to him a pat. Optimus sighed and climbed up next to him. This would either end in good news, or bad news. Either way, he was in it for the long haul. He would stand by Jazz and Ratchet. He wouldn’t loose his newfound temper if things were bad.

\--

Soundwave stared at the screen as Ratchet rubbed his temples. The medic had muted his end, and Soundwave had been confused at first to receive a soundless video call, but then he’d seen the ranting Optimus Prime pacing in the background. Beside Ratchet, there was a nonchalant looking Jazz who was fixated on whatever Optimus was shouting.

Something must have gone terribly wrong.


	6. Insert Disc Six

Megatron was relaxing next to a pile of sleepy combiners as he did a crossword, listening to the soft purr of their engines as they recharged in the shade. They were situated under a makeshift umbrella that the Constructicons had fashioned out of a floating barge, and it was pretty effective for such a sunny day. He honestly couldn’t remember inviting the combiners to lounge on and about him, but they’d appeared and he hadn’t the spark to move them when Long Haul had begun to purr.

Combiners were still such strange mecha to him, whether they led life as a collective consciousness or individuals who relied heavily on their bond, they were fascinating. His little rag tag group was something of a mess, he would happily admit that, but they were _his_ mess. This stalemate had them breathing for the first time in what felt like years. Their plating was relaxed, their optics soft, their company bearable.

On his left leg, one of them stirred awake and sniffled. Visors and optics flickered on to look down at him, and Megatron paused in his crossword.

“Wazit Scavenger?” Long Haul asked sleepily. “Bad flux?”

“Cramp.” Scavenger muttered as he shifted and rolled onto his side. “Line’s bent.”

_:‘Megatron: Inquiry?’:_ Soundwave’s comm line lit up in Megatron’s HUD and he smiled.

“Why’d you wake us up for a bent line, you could have just _shifted_.” Hook moaned.

_:‘What is it Soundwave? Is everything alright?’:_ Megatron lifted his left leg when Scavenger patted it in confusion. 

Yes that it a leg. Yes it is connected to Lord Megatron. Yes, it moves. Oh goodness.

“Foot cramp too.” Mixmaster muttered, yawning and rolling off of Megatron altogether.

_:‘Soundwave: Received Communications from Autobot CMO. Urgent request for your presence.’:_ Soundwave’s comm seemed almost… hesitant.

“Is my line tangled?” Long Haul asked as he stretched and sat up.

“Why don’t you all go for a quick drive, I’ve got a meeting to get to.” Megatron said as he set his crossword aside. _:‘I’ll be there shortly.’:_

The sound of his voice seemed to startle the rest of the Constructicons awake, and they slowly got to their feet and helped unravel Long Haul’s crane line. They fumbled about for a few kliks before switching to their altmodes. Bonecrushers engine revving loudly before he sped off in a lime blur.

Mixmaster cackled and sped after him, but the rest of the group seemed to take their time as they drove toward the makeshift track. Megatron stood up and stretched himself, shaking out any kinks that might have formed from his time stationary. He tucked his crossword into his subspace as he made his way into the ship and straight toward communications, finding the halls blissfully empty. Every mech was either asleep or outside enjoying the sun, and he honestly was… so _happy_ about that. Eerily happy if he really thought about it, but whatever worked… well it worked.

The Communications room was stationed with three mecha, two of whom were Rumble and Frenzy. The twins were staring at a collection of three monitors, whispering to each other conspiratorially. Soundwave had the current main communications camera on hold, one hand pressed to his faceplate as he turned toward Megatron. 

His visor lit up momentarily and he waved toward the seat he’d saved for Megatron’s arrival.

Megatron took it without question.

“Alright, what’s so urgent?” He asked, watching Soundwave flip the camera back on. The screen lit up to show the Autobot medical bay, and in the right corner of the screen was Ratchet. He had his head in both hands, elbows resting on the table as he looked back at Optimus. Optimus who was waving his arms about in the air. His battle mask was up but his gaze was focused on the scuff marks he’d grooved into the floor from his pacing.

Jazz sat beside Ratchet looking utterly delighted by the whole mess.

“Megatron: Here as requested.” Soundwave spoke up, and there was an almost laughter to his voice box before he tore his visor away from the screen.

Ratchet turned back and offered a weak smile, pressing a button that temporarily unmuted him.

“He’s still throwing a fit.” Ratchet said over the tirade Optimus was spewing. The microphone went mute again a second later. Jazz visibly giggled, leaning over in an attempt to press the button, only to have Ratchet slap his wrist.

Megatron sighed, arms crossed. “Whatever is he throwing a fit _for_?” He asked, and Ratchet seemed to sag. He sent a file over and Soundwave already had a data cable ready. Hesitantly, Megatron plugged the cord into his arm and downloaded the provided data.

Soundwave sat perfectly still until Megatron visibly flinched and yanked the cord out of his arm.

“The reset didn’t work?” His voice was almost a growl.

“Well, no, it worked.” Ratchet said as he opened the mic again, trying to talk over Optmus. “It reset Jazz’s systems, only the coding didn’t detach.” Ratchet muted again, the background of Optimus Prime still an echo. Megatron inhaled sharply.

“Is this going to hurt us, is it going to hurt you?” His focus was entirely on Soundwave now. He reached for him below the table and felt fingers grip his own.

“Soundwave: Will persevere any obstacle. Soundwave superior.” Was all he had to say before he turned his visor back toward the screen. This time, Ratchet had stood up and was pushing Optimus off screen. That left Jazz alone in front of the monitor with a grin on his face. His elbows were propped up on the table in a mock of Ratchet’s earlier pose, chin in one hand as the other wiggled its fingers at the screen.

He seemed to wait for a moment before pressing the audio button. “Alright, Hatchet is telling Optimus off in the hallway, we can talk business now.” His visor lit up as he shifted in his chair to be center stage of the monitor. “So, like he said, I did a reset on myself to try and dislodge the code. By all rights, totally should have worked, should have been smooth sailing.” He shrugged.

“But it wasn’t.” Megatron looked down at the console in front of him. “If it didn’t detach or wipe with a reset, that means it’s hooked onto something that’s a core trait and not just our personality code. I’ll have to ask Starscream to look into it further.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “I take it the truce is off then?”

Jazz spluttered. “Frag no! Truce stays, truce is going no where!” Megatron let out a sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He could feel Soundwave relax minutely next to him. “Did you know that I got to take an actual _nap_ today because there was no fighting?” Jazz sighed dreamily. “A real nap, I haven’t been able to nap in… wow I’m not going to think about that, it’s depressing.” He shrugged and folded his finger together under his chin.

“Query? Does Ratchet see anything debilitating or harmful in the future dealing with these codes?” Soundwave asked as he slipped his hand out of Megatron’s to tap away at the keyboard. “Request for copies of codes in Optimus Prime and Jazz. Needed for further analysis.” Jazz seemed to wiggle in his seat, visor glued to Soundwave.

“Sure thing _cutie_.” His visor gave a theatrical wink and he picked up a datapad. “You still using that old data line 724104?”

Megatron narrowed his eyes at Jazz through the screen. “I’m not going to ask how you got that line, and you’re not going to tell me, because if I find out I might be tempted to tell someone _else_ to shoot you in the foot.” Soundwave’s backup system buzzed in what Megatron knew was amusement.

“Oh, I’m sure Ironhide would take you up on that after he finds what I left him in his office.” Jazz said jovially. “But seriously, I can run these by Prowl too, if you think it might help. He’s got a thing about stuff.” He smirked as he looked over at Soundwave and wiggled his eyebrow ridges.

“Soundwave: Knows someone similar. Requests Jazz’s assistance.” Soundwave accepted the data line and began to skim it.

“Oh I’ll give you plenty of assistance.” Jazz said with a smirk. Soundwave’s visor stuttered with light, flickers of something flashing before he shut them down.

“Alright, stop flirting.” Megatron said, trying to make his voice as stern as possible despite his urge to laugh. He hadn’t seen Soundwave flustered in far too long. Come to think of it… he hadn’t seen Soundwave show any real emotion since he closed himself off for the war. Now here he was trying to shut up those feelings all over again…

He didn’t like that. He wanted Soundwave to feel, his friend deserved that after everything Megatron had put him through.

“Jazz.” Megatron turned to the screen and sat up. Jazz hummed in question. “Can you talk to Optimus to set up a meeting, an in person affair. I feel like, truce still standing, it’s time we all met face to face.” He watched as a grin slowly spread across Jazz’s face.

“You know, as much as I don’t trust you, for once I can read you like a book.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll talk to the big boss, set you something up.” Grinning, he raised his arms over his head and stretched. “Alright, I’m going to sign off and get these copies to scientists and other nerds on our end, you two have fun doing… whatever it is you Decepticons do. I’ll message you later _Soundwave_.” He wiggled his fingers and blew a quick kiss before ending the call.

“… What has gotten into him?” Megatron muttered as he crossed his arms. Beside him, Soundwave’s audio cables clicked together.

“Theory.” Soundwave looked around the deck, then shivered. “Jazz: Acquired Soundwave’s ability to… read tells. Jazz, learned to mobilize the art of his own silence to… _read_ others. Accompany this with Jazz's already astounding art as head of Spec Ops for the Autobot regime.” Soundwave looked down at his own hands and licked his thumbs together. “Jazz, saw minute reactions, calculated, attacked via words.”

Megatron blinked. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and leaned over the console desk. “He was testing you, and when he saw you react he kept needling you because he could see it was bothering you?”

“Soundwave: Would not use the word bother.” Soundwave quickly stood up and turned toward his cassettes. “Rumble. Frenzy. New directive: Delivery of datapad to science wing. Given permission to run as fast as possible.” He held out the pad and watched as his symbiotes turned to one another, then to him, and _grinned._

“Yes boss!” They shouted before snatched the pad and bolting for the door.

Megatron watched them go, then turned his attention back to Soundwave. “So are you telling me you were enjoying having someone flirt with you?” He watched Soundwave’s plating clamp down. He didn’t respond verbally, only narrowed his visor at Megatron before he snatched an empty data pad off the console.

“Soundwave: Has work to do.” And like that he turned heel and hurried out of the room. Megatron couldn’t help but grin as he lifted a finger to his internal comm line once his friend was out of sight.

“Starscream? … I want you to help me plan something… No, but it’s something devious.” He leaned back in his chair. “And tell the Constructicons to meet us in the war room, I’ve got ideas.”


	7. Insert Disc Seven

Optimus did not take the news of Megatron’s requested meeting well. Jazz slipped out of the office with a smirk, a datapad in one hand and half a chair leg in the other. He walked down the hall humming, his mind zipping off on several tangents before he got to the commons. Finding one of the empty chairs, he flopped back into the mesh and stared at the ceiling, running a review of the recent events. Several case files popped up on his HUD as he twirled the chair leg between his fingers and he opened the nearest one.

_Optimus Prime, De facto Leader of ‘The Autobots’, OP, Boss Man : ( Formerly Orion Pax, Glorified Librarian Extraordinaire. ) Current Standing Officer. Matrix Barer. Too nice for his own good. Bad taste in music. Do not let him play basketball - he always wins. One of Four affected by the Cerebral Fishnet Bomb. See : Turned into a giant tantrum Sparkling. Avoid lighting that fuse, let Ratchet take care of it._

He flipped to a different file.

_Soundwave, Communication Officer for the Decepticons, Overall Pain in my Aft, Carrier to The Most Terrifying set of Annoyances to Exist - See Subjection : ( No Previously known name? ) Truce In Place - Current Threat Level - Ehh with a Noncommittal Shrug. ( Reduced from ‘Shoot For The Face’ ) One of Four affected by the Cerebral Fishnet Bomb. See: Suddenly Emotions? Evaluate Further.  
Subsection: Ravage*, Laserbeak**, Buzzsaw***, Rumble*IV, Frenzy*V._

Sitting up, Jazz set the table leg down on the armrest of the chair and let the datapad rest on his knee. ‘Suddenly Emotions’ huh? Ever since that CFB had gone off, his thoughts had been bouncing back and forth between quiet contemplation and his regular upbeat chaos. He felt ten steps ahead of everyone, or maybe it was that everyone seemed to be broadcasting little tells that much louder, making it that much easier to manipulate

Take Ratchet for example. Before the CFB, Jazz only knew Ratchet’s surefire tell of throwing something by his field and overall stupidity level in the room. Now he had to add a more detailed list of ‘Upper left arm plating twitches twice, neck cable flexes, optics dilate, venting becomes steadier.’ This kind of observation was normally drilled down for undercover missions, not every day living.

But for some reason he couldn’t seem to help himself. The files he kept on his friends were going from small paragraphs to three or four pages, all organized and filled with bullet points before he hid them under their regular layers of musical notes.

Was this really how Soundwave lived? Taking every minute detail into account, examining everything unfamiliar around him and categorizing it as if it were a threat level? Did the mech never get any rest, did he not know the meaning of relaxation? How did he recharge when his thoughts were always so… _on._

_Did_ he recharge?

“Hey Jazz.” Bumblebee walked by his chair and Jazz offered a smile, still knee deep in his notes. His friend didn’t seem to notice, but instead stared at the chair leg resting under his arm. “Umm… if I ask why that’s there, will you tell me?” He queried, finger pointing almost hesitantly at the leg.

Jazz just flashed a grin at him. “Yes.”

Bumblebee vented, but there was a smile on his face anyway. “Aright, I’ll bite. Why do you have a chair leg under your arm?” From behind him, Blurr came up and peered over his shoulder.

_Tension, eyes dilated so recently ingested either mid grade or high grade, fingers drumming. Regular nerves, no need for alarm, Blurr always slightly out of tune with the rest of the Autobots unless build up of excess charge released. Recommend race track run._

“Yeah why _do_ you have a leg?” Blurr scratched at his helm. “That thing looks familiar.”

“Well generally mechs have two legs, mine are both attached so maybe you should get your optics checked.” Jazz couldn’t help teasing him as he closed his files and cleared away his HUD.

“Oh ha ha.” Bumblebee rolled his optics while Blurr let out a trill of laughter. “You know what we meant boss.”

Jazz grinned wider, were that possible. “Call it a souvenir from Optimus.” He lifted the leg and tapped it against his helm.

“He did _not_ throw a chair at you.” Bumblebee said, firm in his affirmation.

“He didn’t, he just broke the one he went to sit on when he angrily planted his aft too hard on the seat.” Jazz looked over as Blurr’s trill of laughter became a shriek. Other mecha in the commons were turning their way, confused by their friends outburst.

“Of course,” there was plenty of humor in Bumblebee’s tone, “that’s a delivery pad, don’t you have somewhere to be?” One hand was on his hip, the other pointing to the pad on Jazz’s knee.

_Delight, amusement, familiarity. Guard down, calm EM and ease. Gun closest thing in subspace, ready but happy._

Jazz leaned closer, pointing to Bumblebee with the chair leg. “You, stop being so cute _and_ a smart aft.” He pointed to Blurr. “You, stop _also_ being cute and go race Sunstreaker or something. I’ve got my own business to attend to, as do you. Even if we’re still under a cease fire, I’m in charge.”

Blurr shook his helm and hurried toward the exit, trying valiantly to stifle his laughter. Bumblebee just waved Jazz off and turned toward a table with the rest of his friends. Jazz watched them chatter, enjoyed the comfortable murmuring as he listened to the door open across the room and familiar pedfalls approach him. Counting the steps, he looked up just in time to watch Prowl bump his knees into a footstool. The datapad in his hands dimmed as he glared at the stool, then looked over to see Jazz.

“Ah, there you are. I got your comm, what’s so important?” Prowl asked as he subspaced his datapad. Jazz hummed and scooted over on the chair, patting the cushion next to him.

“Sit with me.”

Prowl blinked. “No, thank you though.” He watched as Jazz pouted. “Primus above, _fine._ This had better be important.” He shuffled awkwardly around the chair and squeezed himself next to Jazz, then hummed as he was given the datapad.

“Have fun with that.” Jazz purred before he closed his optics and leaned against Prowl’s side. His friend grunted and lifted his arm, letting Jazz curl even closer before he let his hand settle on Jazz’s hip. 

What was that Earth expression Jazz was looking for?

Oh right!

Prowl was about to _shit a brick._


	8. Insert Disc Eight

“So he said yes?” Starscream asked as his fingers curled into his palms. He’d gone from perched on the corner of the war table to standing next to Megatron, eyeing him skeptically. On the other side of him, Mixmaster was pulling out blueprint after blueprint from his subspace with an excited and manic giggle. Long Haul was flicking through them, shoving several at Scavenger before throwing the rest to the floor.

“Well, no, not yet.” Megatron shrugged as Starscream’s fans kicked on in annoyance. His heel clicked as he started tapping his foot, and Hook walked around him to pick up the scattered blueprints.

“Why are you having them _build_ this if he hasn’t even said yes yet?” Starscream crossed his arms and stared, waiting. Megatron chuckled as he pushed away from the table and rose to his feet. 

As he took a step back, the Constructicons all glanced up, then looked back to their schematics. They seemed to ignore the other mecha in the room in favor of huddled whispering. Megatron smiled fondly at them before he beckoned Starscream closer. 

Starscream hesitated, but stepped within arms reach. Megatron let him have his caution.

“I’m not having them build it, I’m having them draft a blueprint.” He looked at the table, now littered with blue. “I brought you in to help me prepare a speech that I can use when I ask him.” Starscream balked for a grand total of two kliks before he collected his features. “Don’t give me that look, you were and still are a dignitary of Vos, a Prince among the Sky. I value your opinion on matters like this.”

Starscream didn’t let his mouth fall open in shock at the kind smile Megatron presented him with, but it was a near thing. Those words hadn’t been spoken to him in… millennia. Megatron had long forgone their initial meeting arrangements in favor of strength and war, and all Starscream’s hard achievements had been cast aside, save when they were vital for survival.

He’d forgotten what it was like to hear those words with that tone, and for a moment his spark soared in his chest. Starscream was a savant again in a small dingy hotel, standing in front of a mech who would change the world with his voice alone.

He quickly shook himself back to the present, reminding himself this moment of peace hinged on Megatron staying blissfully ignorant and happy. Starscream straightened up, hiking his wings as he did so to try and present himself as competent.

“You want a speech?” Megatron nodded. “I’m not sure a speech is going to impress him, we both know he’s not interested in-” Starscream was cut off when Megatron stepped close and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

“I know you’ll come up with something, you’re very resourceful after all. I don’t thank you enough for that.” Megatron gave Starscream’s shoulder a pat and chuckled as he walked away. “Get back to me when you’ve got something written down, won’t you?” Starscream let out a long whine as he whirled around to track Megatron as he walked out of the war room. “Boys, I assume you’ll do the same?”

The Constructicons grunted. Long Haul looked up and nodded.

Starscream squeaked and popped a tire as the door closed and Megatron disappeared out of sight.

\--

“He kissed me!” Starscream shouted as he burst through the front room of his quarters. Skywarp sat up from the couch with a tiny pop, Thundercracker grunting beneath him as his legs clanged together in shock.

“Uh, who?” Thundercracker asked as a panel snapped closed.

“How does he know when we do this?” Skywarp grumbled. “Even during a cease fire we can’t get privacy.”

“Shut up.” Starscream snapped. “You can frag on your own time-”

“This was our own time flutter bug.”

“Megatron _kissed_ me!” Starscream threw his hands into the air and began pacing. “Why would he do that? I mean I know it was just a cheek kiss but how dare he! Who does he think he is?” He turned to his trinemates and waited.

“Ummm,” Skywarp shifted on Thundercracker’s thighs and turned to face Starscream, “lord of all Decepticons?”

“Oh, leader of the cause!” Thundercracker smirked as he pulled Skywarp back into his lap and buried his face between his trinemates wings. Skywarp trilled and swatted behind him with weak hands.

Starscream huffed. “Focus, the both of you.” He snapped his fingers, trying to get his trinemates attention.

Sighing, Thundercracker pulled back from between Skywarp’s wings and slumped into the couch cushions. Skywarp pouted, arms crossed as he narrowed his optics at Starscream.

“Why do you care so much about Megatron kissing you?” He asked. 

“I bet Megatron’s new personality is bringing up all sorts of memories of that time Screamer had a crush on him.” Thundercracker said with a croon. Starscream nearly shrieked as he started to march toward the couch.

“You take that back! I popped a tire in horror earlier! I get out of the hands of Hook only to come back to this?! From my trine no less!”

“Primus you’re right!” Skyward shouted over Starscream’s indignant yelping, arms held out to keep him at a distance. “Oh man, do you remember how he used to _moon_ over him TC?”

Thundercracker moaned and pitched his voice higher. “Thundercracker he’s so handsome, his voice is so deep and ominous.”

“I will rip your wings off!” Starscream shouted as he climbed into Skywarp’s lap. He grappled with Skywarp for a second more until he was able to wrestle one arm away, reaching around his trinemate to slap at Thundercracker’s chest. The attacks only made Thundercracker laugh harder though, and soon Skywarp was leaning into Starscream’s space to plant kisses along his cockpit glass.

Starscream yelped and started smacking him in the shoulder. “Don’t you dare distract me Warp, I‘m trying to be serious!” He shrieked when a pair of hands grabbed at his aft.

“Alright, _I’ll_ distract you then.” Thundercracker said proudly.

“Why are you two like this?” As exasperated as Starscream was, he started smiling. “I bring you serious news and you repay me like this? I haven’t even gotten to the gossip and you’re both manhandling me.”

Skywarp sat up, interest peeked. Thundercracker did not let go however. Never one to care too much about gossip, he instead planted a kiss to Skywarp’s wings.. While he might not be as elated as his trinemates were when it came to the rumors of others personal lives, he still enjoyed how happy it made them.

His mates were catty little glitches.

Starscream leaned back, arms crossed as he repositioned himself on Skywarp’s legs. “It has to do with Megatron.” He preened. “And a certain ceremony we’ve all been placing bets on.”

\--

Back in his quarters, Megatron watched as several pings slid across his HUD in quick succession, all from Starscream’s trine. He laughed as he leaned back in his chair and dismissed them. Let those three stew for a while, he had better things to deal with.

Across from him, Long Haul stood at attention before he spread out a blueprint on the desk and tapped it with his finger. “This is the one we think would best suit you, my lord. If it’s not up to your specifications I brought a few others.” He said, proud as ever. Megatron leaned over the paper and nodded, happily surprised as he took in the elegance of the archways.

“You all sketched this out in only a few hours?” Megatron rubbed at his chin. “I expected you’d need a day or two.”

Long Haul shrugged. “If I’m being honest, sir, we’ve had these plans drawn out for years. Whenever we get spare time, we draw blueprints.” He seemed to light up as he pointed at a few of the structures. “Mixmaster wanted to let you know that in place of statues, we could construct fountains instead. Hook suggested a light blue marble for the arches, and either a dark blue for the pillars or black.” He ran his fingers down one of the structures. “Gathering the materials will take us a day at most, if that.”

Megatron chuckled. “Best I ask him before you start building anything.”

Long Haul stared at him. “If I may, sir?” He watched Megatron hesitate, but nod. “This is Soundwave. If he doesn’t say yes, I’ll shoot _myself_ in the face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me far longer than it should have, but at least I got to call Skywarp and Starscream catty glitches.  
> If you see any mistakes just let me know.


	9. Insert Disc Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Codependent Relationships and Interdependent Relationships walk a very fine line, and can often be mistaken for one another if not researched properly/given the right information. My bad.

Sequestered away in his habsuite to pout like a sparkling, Optimus _sulked._ Ratchet attempted to talk to him at first, but each effort was being met with more pouting and louder defiance. Eventually he’d decided he’d get someone _else_ to do the talking, because _like scrap_ was he going to talk to an overgrown bitlet right now. So Ratchet made a short but frustrating quest to find someone to talk to his friend, happy to know the usual suspects were all gathered in the same place.

When asked, Ironhide had refused outright, not even giving an explanation as to why before he burst into giggles and scurried out of the room. Prowl had his nose buried so deep in a datapad that only a bomb going off would get his attention, _maybe_ , and Jazz was busy playing turbocat to keep the Praxian from pacing himself right off a cliff while he read. Bumblebee made himself scarce claiming it was his shift to watch the perimeter, and Mirage flat out disappeared in a shriek of laughter. 

But then a miracle happened, Brawn had apparently overheard them. Brawn had _volunteered_ himself in fact. With great gusto that set off several alarm bells in Ratchet’s helm. But Brawl was sensible, if not cranky, right?

He’d cracked his knuckles and walked right into Optimus’ habsuite, grabbing a chair behind him as he did so. Ratchet was, of course, hovering outside the door for the first sound of violence, but he was holding on to faith.

Brawn, for his effort, pulled his chair up next to Optimus at his desk and mimicked his crossed arms and pouting pose. Next to him, his leader pouted harder and looked away from his vid screen.

“Brawn.” He said, voice still that of a commander.

“Prime.” Brawn said, voice anything but serious. “What’s with the face, I thought I was the only one allowed to have this sort of face.” He pointed at his cheek and scowled comically. “Doesn’t look too good on you, I gotta’ say.”

Sighing, Optimus lifted his battle mask and buried his face in his arms.

“Real mature there big truck.” Brawn laughed. “Come on, what’s eattin’ at ya’ big guy? You know you can talk to me.” Optimus grunted and lifted his face, setting his status on the vid screen to away.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was terrified right now?” He asked. “Because honestly this entire situation has just been adding to this sudden growing itch in my processor and I… I don’t know how to handle it.” Optimus let out a shaking vent.

“So… alright, what are you scared of?” Brawn asked, picking at some of the grime between his plating. “I know articulatin’ ain’t your strong suit right now, but do your best.” He plucked whatever it was away and flicked it toward the trash.

Optimus grunted, face falling into his hands. “Have you ever had to sit and… _think_ about your actions for so long that you started second guessing everything you’ve ever done?” He trembled and gripped the side of his helm. “Because that’s where I’m at, my friend, that’s where my processor is. I feel as if I’m… stuck on a continuity error, but the answer is right in front of me and simply not registering.”

Brawn hesitated, but smiled and reached out. His hand was warm and reassuring on Optimus’ arm, a gentle pat to make him look up.

“Peace does that.” Brawn looked down at the table this time. “We’ve all been running so headlong, punching the same train over and over again for so many millennia that… now that we can take a second to catch our breath we can take stock of our surroundings.” Something in his pause made Optimus’ spark clench. “We’re all looking around for the first time, really _seeing_ the carnage at our feet. It ain’t pretty, it ain’t one of those overnight fixes, the train isn’t the only one at fault here. We could have moved out the way, or we could have just moved the tracks to let it go where it was fighting to all along.”

“This side of you scares me.” Optimus cut in jovially.

Brawn laughed and patted his friends arm again. “I ain’t too great at being a word smith, okay? I know you’re looking around and everything seems ruined, like it can’t be fixed, but… Prime, we’re under a cease fire. There’s no use letting it eat you up like this. Take peace where you can get it, take the bodies and the rubble and acknowledge it, but don’t linger on it.”

Optimus stared for a few moments, then cycled his optics and squinted at Brawn. “Alright, who are you and what have you done to my loveable hot head?” There was laughter in his voice even as he said it, and Brawn just smiled softly.

Something about that smile was so… tired. Optimus stopped laughing, swallowing suddenly as the cables in his neck tightened. When had Brawn gotten so old, when had those optics turned from an eternal frustration to a spark crushing acceptance?

The sight terrified him, but he couldn’t look away. Brawn had always been an unmovable object, his purpose was to fight and to win and…

And here he was setting that purpose aside and breaking down just like Optimus. Here was Brawn, the mighty fighter, the strongest mech, stopping to look around and _mourn_ his actions.

This hadn’t been what Optimus had been talking about, but now that it was out in the open he couldn’t very well take it back. He couldn’t pretend his friends weren’t hurting, weren’t tired, weren’t scared and lost. These mech he led were given peace for the first time in millions of years and their reactions to it were to lash out and assume the worst. No one was truly relaxed here, everyone was scared and flailing in the wake of their aftermath, attempting to fight something that wasn’t even there anymore.

They were flailing helplessly at nothing.

Suddenly Optimus’ problems seemed moot. 

“Hey, Prime, if you want us to go back to fighting I’ll stay beside you.” Brawn’s words struck a cord so vile in his chest. “I’ll pick right back up where we left off, it’ll be like nothing changed. You just gotta get your head out of your aft first.” His hand came down much harder than the previous times as he pushed off the chair and walked toward the door. “Just think on it.”

And like that he’d left.

Optimus stared after him for a long time, then pulled his arms around his chest and turned back to the vid monitor. Megatron wanted to meet face to face because he was worried, not for himself, but for his mechs. Megatron was showing a compassion that Optimus had convinced himself had been burned out of his friend long ago.

Hesitantly, he reached across the terminal and typed in a few lines of agreement, then shut the whole thing down. 

He needed to recharge and gather himself.

\--

Prowl had been going over the data for hours now, and Jazz had happily drifted off into a half asleep state as fingers stroked at his helm. 

Their strange, almost symbiotic relationship kept them grounded to one another, and that kept them glued to the floor. 

With Jazz at his side, Prowl could remind himself of his touch for humanity, he could keep himself from wandering away in thought. Jazz kept Prowl grounded like a shaft of rebar through his chassi. When other mechs began to question Prowl’s sanity, or commented on his apparent unpopularity, Jazz would slip in and remind Prowl how loved he was. Jazz would force his way into Prowl’s spark and point out every little detail that made him so important. Jazz reminded Prowl that he was more than just a tool for this war, he reminded him that he was a mech who was allowed to _feel_ things from time to time.

With Prowl, Jazz found someone he could break down to without the bitter pity or judgment that normally came along with Spec Op breakdowns. Unloading emotions after serious missions had to be handled accordingly, personas stripped away and actions examined in full emotions, and that slag could be explosive. Prowl held Jazz through the worst of his upheavals, clutched him close and warm in the safety of his habsuite as Jazz would scream the night away. Prowl was a familiar anchor to lock on to when Jazz’s persona’s felt too heavy, when he started to forget who he was, Prowl was there to pull him back with sweet fingers and soft words.

They had woven themselves into the others lives so intricately that they often forgot other mechs might be able to help them.

Was it healthy?

Probably not.

But it worked, and their friends knew proper procedure when things got slagged and who to throw at whom. Prowl was overly protective of Jazz, and Jazz, though he played it off as nothing, was even more protective of Prowl. The two were so joined at the hip that the fact they hadn’t spark bonded confused all their friends to the point of occasional processor aches. Was it a one sided affair? Were they dating and not putting labels on it? Had they secretly been married for eons and just never brought it up?

But things were more complicated than either let on. This was a dance they knew far too well.

When Prowl finished the datapad, he looked around the common room to see it empty save the two of them. His fingers stilled on Jazz’s helm, a small smile escaping him before he covered it.

“Jazz, wake up.” He nudged the mechs shoulder gently. Jerking and gasping in shock, Jazz’s hands reached out instinctively, his face buried in Prowl’s belly as his systems sputtered to life. “Yes, I know, now wake up.” Prowl kept his voice as steady as he could as he set the datapad aside.

Jazz withdrew slowly, visor lifting as he rubbed his optics. The glass fell back into place with a soft thud, and Jazz sat up and leaned back to look around the room. He hadn’t felt anyone for a while other than Prowl, but normally waking up didn’t startle him so much.

Must be a coding thing.

“Hey, what’s up?” he muttered, “you figure anything out?”

Prowl let his smile show, reaching up to cup Jazz’s cheek. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He said fondly, and then he slapped him.

It shocked more than hurt, nothing with force, just an alert smack.

“Oww?” Jazz reached up, grabbing his cheek.

“Do you have _any_ idea how scared I am right now?” Prowl asked, a slow fire starting in his optics. “Any at all? Because I just read a datapad on it that said you might possibly have irreversible code latched into you. Code that could _change_ you into someone I don’t recognize. Code I told you again and again was stupid to even set off in the first place!” The heat in his voice grew, but Prowl remained still.

Jazz deflated, then leaned forward until their helms were touching, then noses. “You didn’t have to hit me.” He muttered.

“I can’t lose you to some coding Jazz, I…” Something broke in his words, and Prowl chose not to continue.

Reaching out, Jazz put both hands on either side of Prowl’s face. “Hey… hey no, look at me.” He pulled back enough so Prowl could see him. “You will _never_ lose me, Prowler.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“The coding isn’t going to make me love you any less.” Jazz said, firm in his belief. “I’m always going to be here, I’m not… I’m not going anywhere, I just might change a little here and there.” Prowl made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t, if anyone can find a way to remove the coding, it’s you. If this _somehow_ changes me into a mech you can’t recognize, then I know you and I trust you to fix it. Fix _me.”_

Prowl hesitated, but nodded. Jazz wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, and Prowl clung to him for several seconds before letting go.

“Better?” Jazz asked in a whisper. When Prowl nodded, Jazz visibly relaxed and slumped against him. “Oh thank Primus, I was worried there for a second.”

Prowl snorted. “I thought the coding had already started to change you, to be honest. I thought you were going to tell me you’d started hitting on Shockwave or something.” Prowl admitted.

“Primus no!” Jazz recoiled. “No, you know I’ve got actual _taste._ I’m going to start hitting on Soundwave.” He paused for a beat, then scrambled to his feet and screamed with laughter as Prowl dove for him.

“I’m going to shove that visor down your throat!” Prowl shouted after him.


	10. Insert Disc Ten

“ _Boss._ ” Rumble’s voice was scratchy as he nudged Soundwave’s leg. Being forcibly woken from recharge wasn’t how he’d wanted to start his day, but he couldn’t fault his symbiotes for anything right now.

“He keeps pacing outside the door.” Frenzy whined from the berth across the room.

“If it’s bothering you so much, why not just dock in like the flits did?” Ravage grumble from beneath Soundwave’s arm. One of his paws lifted and fell over the bridge of his snout, the pads of his feet covering his optics.

Soundwave stroked his hand down his cassettes back and hushed him until he was purring.

“I’m too tired.” Rumble muttered. “Tell him to either go away or get in here, breakfast isn’t even being served yet. Why does he have to be so loud?” Rumble’s engine snuffled as he trudged back over to his and Frenzy’s berth, his body clanging as he climbed onto the slab. Soundwave tried not to groan, but it was true that he could hear Megatron shuffling and pacing outside of the door. In truth, he could hear _every_ movement now that he was awake, recharge no longer the soft buffer to quiet the clicks and pops outside.

Sometimes Megatron did slag like this, he would linger in the hall for a few moments before wondering off.

Tonight wasn’t like those other times though. According to his surveillance recordings and Rumble’s insistent pings, Megatron had been there for _three hours_.

“Soundwave: Must get off the berth.” He muttered as he gave Ravage a soft scritch behind his ear. Ravage huffed and wriggled out from under Soundwave’s arm, tail flicking in aggravation as he jumped off the berth and climbed up one of his cat trees. There was no doubt that he was pissed.

“Ravage, don’t be like that.” Soundwave watched as Ravage padded the top of his matte before he turned around to face the wall. With a final huff, Ravage’s tail flicked once and then curled to cover his face. Soundwave frowned as he climbed off his berth and unplugged from the wall.

If Megatron wanted to talk to him _this_ much, he could have at least knocked. Trudging to the door, Soundwave placed his fingers on the access panel and slid them down. The door opened with a hiss of pressure, and Megatron turned to him, startled.

“Oh, Soundwave, you’re awake.” His smile was awkward and nervous. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“ _Yes_.” Both Rumble and Frenzy shouted before they pulled a blanket over their helms. Soundwave looked back at them and shook his helm before stepping out into the hall. The door closed behind him, and Soundwave used the metal to lean against as his systems booted.

“I didn’t mean to-” Soundwave cut Megatron off by reaching out and patting his cheek. He made a sleepy shushing sound and motioned Megatron forward, which Megatron hesitantly obliged. Now half leaning on the door, and half leaning against Megatron, Soundwave let is engine boot properly.

He let out a sleepy yawn. “Megatron, wished to speak with Soundwave?” Megatron tensed as Soundwave settled against his chest, but his plating soon settled and his hands lifted to rest against Soundwave’s shoulders.

“It can wait, truly. If you were this tired you didn’t have to come out here, it wasn’t anything urgent.” Megatron said, voice soft as he felt a slow purr start up in Soundwave’s chest.

“Megatron, been loitering.” Soundwave whispered. “Awoken symbiotes, Soundwave does not mind. Megatron important, how can Soundwave assist?”

The door slid open, both mechs ignoring it. Slowly, Megatron’s hands moved from Soundwave’s shoulders to his cheeks. There was a look in his optics as he lifted Soundwave’s face toward his own, and Soundwave leaned forward with a confused hum.

“I want to ask you something.” Megatron whispered, face inches from Soundwave’s mask.

\--

Megatron sat in the medical bay and sighed as energon gushed from the unclamped cable in his leg. Hook leaned over the open wound and pinched the tubing between his fingers with a chuckle. Behind him, Long Haul was making a noise as if he was trying to keep all the air held tight in his systems.

“Did... did Ravage _really_ bite this out of you?” Hook asked for the fourth time, prodding at the wound. Megatron just gave the cat a _look_ as it laid pinned beneath Frenzy and Rumble on the floor. The two mechs were chanting ‘You’re in trouble’ over and over as Soundwave hid his face in one hand. Above him, the twin birds were preening and chittering, far too delighted.

“Yes, Hook, yes he did.” Megatron said through gritted teeth.

“Wow,” Hook pulled out a welder, “I didn’t think anything short of a close range laser could pierce through your plating, _my lord_.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Megatron.

Soundwave was quick to speak though, as if worried. “Ravage: Special build. Frame type and primal instinct coded for hunting, body adapts for prey.” He still muttered behind his hand though.

Hook’s visor flickered with delight as he glanced over at Ravage’s smug flash of fangs. He seemed to think better of himself though, as if cutting off a thought before he focused on Megatron’s leg. Long Haul took a step closer, then retreated, hand raising and lowering repeatedly. He’d been doing this since Soundwave had rushed Megatron into the medbay. 

The rest of the Constructicons were back in their room getting those last few moments of sleep before the sun came up, and Megatron couldn’t blame them. Why Long Haul had insisted on joining, he wasn’t entirely sure, but at least he wasn’t being patronizing.

Soundwave sat on one of the med berths, both of his twins giggling as they all chattered together. Megatron let out a sigh and offered Soundwave a reassuring smile. Or at least he attempted to before Hook’s weld went too high up.

“Nnn, no, watch it. I will _not_ ask for a sedative when I know you can do your job _without_ repeating that mistake.” Megatron said through gritted denta. Hook’s shoulders tightened, a small snort bursting out of his throat as he picked up a patch kit.

“Of course.” He muttered.

Across the room, Ravage huffed.

“Don’t.” Soundwave held up a finger before pointing it at Ravage.

“You’re in so much slag.” Rumble giggled as he covered his face.

“Oh man, you’re going to be docked for weeks for this.” Frenzy leaned against his brother, then yelped when Ravage slapped his side with his tail.

There was obviously no end to Soundwave’s embarrassment, and the fact it was showing all over his frame was even worse. He was trying so very hard to rein himself in, to gather his emotions and put them back in their respective boxes.

But Ravage had heard Megatron’s question and _lunged_ at him. Soundwave had been so horrified that Megatron would have retaliated once the metal ripped away in Ravage’s jaw that he couldn‘t move. He’d invisioned a flash in his mind of a blaster hole in his symbiote, or worse.

Ravage ripped in half.

But Megatron had just looked down after howling in shock and balked at the cat.

“You bit me! Ravage what the frag? Soundwave why did he bite me?” He’d shouted it so loud that Soundwave’s neighbors down the hall had peaked out of their room.

Ravage had spat the metal bits and tubing onto the floor and shouted “You know why!” before Soundwave had snatched him up by the scruff.

They’d rushed Megatron into the medbay when the energon started to form a small pond, and now here Soundwave sat. Mortified by his own circumstances.

“Megatron?” Long Haul finally seemed to find his voice, stepped up to the side of the med berth. Hook held up a hand and flexed three fingers. Long Haul glanced down for a split second before passing him a spanner. “Permission to speak?”

“Yes, Long Haul? What’s wrong?” Megatron asked, trying not to groan as Hook pulled at his inner cables. Had this been a few days ago, Hook would have lost a leg for such rough treatment.

“Umm… do you, I mean, not that you wouldn’t, but do you remember that thing I said last night, about umm… shooting myself in the face?” Long Haul lowered his voice and whispered the last few words, as if hoping Soundwave wouldn’t hear him.

Soundwave did though.

“I won’t hold you to that.” Megatron reached out and patted Long Haul’s arm a little harder than necessary.

“He… you said _no_?” Long Haul squeaked.

“Not… exactly.” Megatron looked away, his throat cables tensing as he swallowed. Ravage began to growl from his pinned position, and Soundwave hurried over to try and hush him.

“What?” Before Long Haul could ask any more questions, Ravage snapped his jaws and nearly threw Rumble off his back.

“You can’t say no to something you already are!” He shouted. “How _dare_ you forget that you two are already Amica!” His snarl echoed around the stunned room.

Megatron coughed and rubbed the back of his neck, his discomfort radiating out of his normally tight field. Soundwave’s visor went out, his fingers now rubbing at his temples. Hook paused in his work for only a second before he shrugged and continued.

Long Haul tensed up, then slumped and looked over at Hook. His visor rebooted several times before he made a soft sound, almost like a whimper, in the back of his throat. Hook seemed to take pity on him.

“Go see if Onslaught needs you, and stay away from guns.” Hook lifted his welder, fire still burning, and pointed it at the door. “No shooting yourself in the face, he didn’t say no. In fact he didn’t say anything, you’re under no obligation.” He turned back to the wound and tapped the inside of Megatron’s thigh. “Does that still hurt?”

Megatron had dented the berth under his hand and sucked in a breath. “ _Hook_.” He warned.

“I had to check if the nerve was reconnected.” Hook said, no nonsense. “You really are lucky.” His visor light flickered over Ravage, as if weary.

Soundwave groaned and nearly slumped in on himself. This cluster fuck of a day had only _just_ started.


	11. Insert Disc Eleven

Optimus woke from recharge with a strange flickering in his thigh, as if something had crawled under his plating and stung at bare protoform. Blearily he sat up, fingers scratching at his thigh as he checked his internal alarms. There were still hours to go before he had to be awake, and yet here he was staring into the dark and coming to consciousness. He rubbed at his optics and let his start up fans run high, still scratching at his thigh.

Leaning over he squinted at the irritated area, looking for cuts or flecks in his paint.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though.

Narrowing his optics, he reached over to flip on the berth side lamp. With better lighting, he pulled his thigh closer toward his chest, examining the itch.

Nope, nothing.

“Weird.” Optimus let his leg drop as he fell back into the cushion of his berth, optics closed. Maybe he could get a few more hours of recharge in?

\--

Ratchet scrambled off his berth as he heard the scream down the hall, all his protocols online and pumping him full of adrenaline. There was no mistaking that sound, Optimus was howling with pain. Ratchet didn’t know why, but from the sound of it his friend had been shot. This was one of those sounds he’d heard many times before, he knew it too well. As he rushed out of his doorway he watched as Jazz stumbled out of his own, Prowl running out behind him to hold him up under his arm.

“Ratchet! We’ve got an emergency!” Prowl shouted as Ratchet ran passed them.

“Yeah, Optimus, I’m on it!” Ratchet waved his arms toward the end of the hall.

“Not just Optimus!” Prowl shouted. “There’s something wrong with Jazz!” Ratchet nearly tripped over his own peds as he tried to skid to a stop. Looking back, he saw Jazz clutching at his chest, mouth opening and shutting as he tried in vain to drag in a breath.

Optimus took that moment to scream again and Ratchet whipped back around toward his door. “Slag me in half, bring him along!” He waved an arm and nearly ran right into Ironhide as he busted out of his own berthroom. Ratchet had to use his arm to swing around him so he wouldn’t crash into the wall, and Ironhide helped hold him up as Ratchet used his medical override to throw open Optimus’ door.

“Go, help get Jazz!” Ratchet demanded as he pointed down the hall. “Sit him at Optimus’ desk, I’ve got this.” Rushing through the doorway into Optimus’ berthroom, Ratchet saw his friend curled into the fetal position and clutching his thigh close to his chest. His breathing was coming in through gritted denta and clenched shut optics, knuckles groaning as he rocked on his berth.

No energon in sight, no visible wound, initial scanning showing no signs of toxins on the air or in his EM Field. Kneeling next to the berth, Ratchet was able to pry Optimus’ hands away from his leg to find… nothing. There were self inflicted scratch marks, but none deep enough to even chip the paint.

As Optimus attempted to kick out, Ratchet was able to push him down and put him into medical lock. “I know it hurts, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” Ratchet could feel the pain and discomfort rolling off his friends EM Field, the feeling hitting him repeatedly.

“It…” Optimus attempted to shake his head, but the lock held paralyzed. “Someone is digging around in my leg!” He moaned, optics trained on the spot. “I can feel it, it’s like they’re wiggling a probe or something against my nerves!”

Ratchet flipped open his wrist scanner and hovered it over Optimus’ leg, searching through plating and wires for whatever was beneath the surface. Once found it would be simple enough to extract, he always carried a laser scalpel at the tip of his fingers.

Ironhide came into the room with a grunt as Prowl yanked a chair toward them, helping to ease Jazz into it.

“What’s going on?” Ironhide asked, hovering now between Jazz and Optimus. Ratchet frowned at his scanner and recalibrated it as he attempted to hush him.

Prowl ignored them all and settled between Jazz’s thighs. “Breathe with me sweet spark, you’ve done this so many times before, come on.” Prowl’s voice was methodical as it slipped beneath the frantic gasping of Jazz’s intakes. “In and out.”

“Ratchet, what’s going on!” Ironhide shouted.

“Slag-sucking rotten hatched scrapheap of a smelter fragger!” Optimus gasped, his leg twitching. “Cut the nerves off _cut them off_!” The higher his paniced voice got, the louder Ironhide’s shouting got.

Ratchet sighed and flipped his scanner shut, reaching up to Optimus’ hip so he could neutralize the nerve cables.  It was quick work to temporarily unplug them and give his friend momentary relief. As soon as the wires came undone, Optimus’ tension left him, his entire body slumping down to the berth as he moaned.

“He’s fine for now, use this and recheck the scans on his leg.” Ratchet reached into his subspace for one of his handheld scanners and tossed it to Ironhide.  He did as he was told as soon as Ratchet moved away from the berth. Now Ratchet just had to scoot the few feet across the floor to sit beside Prowl as his fingers looped through Jazz’s.

Prowl glanced at him, but mostly kept his optics focused on Jazz. “He woke up in a panic.” Prowl explained.

“He’s Spec Ops, that happens.” Ratchet reminded him, even though he was already running a scan over Jazz’s head and chest.

“He couldn’t explain his panic though, he can always explain it. Then he couldn’t talk, and his vents started to seize up.” Prowl leaned forward as Jazz reached out, his cheek resting against Jazz’s palm. “This isn’t normal for one of his come downs, this is… this is some other mech coming down, not Jazz.”

Ratchet tried not to bring up how awkward and personal this was, but hey, not his personal life, not his business.

“Extend your EM Field to me Jazz, try that for me.” Ratchet said softly, keeping his hands to himself from years of experience with Jazz’s come downs.

The field that brushed against him was familiar, but true to Prowl's words, not Jazz’s.

Ratchet nearly dropped his scanner before he tapped into his comm link. “Blaster, hey, get me-” He paused. “ _Yes_ I know what time it is, I need you to patch me into our Decepticon line.”

“I knew it, what did they do!” Ironhide nearly crowed in victory, but Optimus’ hushed words seemed to distract him.

“This wasn’t them.” Ratchet snapped. “I mean, it was, but not that way. It’s the CFB.” Ratchet listened to the line ring.

“You said this wasn’t dangerous.” Ironhide snapped.

“It isn’t supposed to be.” Prowl muttered. “Is there anything we can do?” His optics finally tore away from Jazz and flicked to Ratchet, who nodded when the line connected. He held up a finger.

“Yes, Ratchet, Chief Medical Officer of the Autobots, yes, that Ratchet… yes, really.” Sighing, Ratchet waved his wrist. “Look, this is pretty important, could you just patch me through to Soundwave? … Did I stutter?” He huffed as the line was sent to transfer.

“Ratchet?” Prowl’s fingers had started to rub against Jazz’s knuckles as his breathing started to quicken again.

Ratchet held up another finger, then smiled when the line finally picked up. “Yes, Ratchet speaking, I… I’ll tell you how I got this number later, I need you to do something extremely important for me… turn off your emotional output relay… just trust me, I’ll keep you on the line.”

Ratchet turned to Jazz and waited.

As if a switch had been flipped, Jazz gasped and slumped forward into Prowl’s arms. He started babbling, low and unheard against Prowl’s neck as he shook full bodied. He was heaving in several breaths, his entire frame turned into one big rattle.

“Alright, so I have no idea how this happened, but I need you to look up where your output empties and rewrite that file. You may have to go through several of them now that I think about it, as a precaution.” Ratchet sighed as the line went quiet, but at least it didn’t disconnect. “Oh, and tell Megatron to do the same, emphasis on his pain receptors, I’m pretty sure they’re feeding back into Optimus.”

Prowl hummed suddenly, hand petting gently down Jazz’s back. “He wants to know who shot Megatron so he can send them a fruit basket.” Prowl chuckled. “Really? You will not send fruit baskets no matter how much you sweet talk me.”

“Yeah, who did shoot Megatron?” Ironhide asked as he set the scanner aside and pressed down on Optimus’ shoulders. The motion released the medical override keeping him pinned, and Optimus sat up aided by his friends hands.

“If I’m to understand this correctly,” Optimus muttered, “Jazz and I are now linked both emotionally and… I supposed physically, to Megatron and Soundwave? How did that happen?” He turned to Prowl, who was busy rocking Jazz against his hood.

Ratchet sighed. “No idea,” he stood up and stretched as his protocols began to relax, “but we’ll get to the bottom of this. We may need to push that meeting sooner so I can scan all four of you and figure out where these code leaks are coming from.” Looking down, he watched as Prowl attempted to pull Jazz to his feet.

Not many got to see him this close to the edge of being unhinged. That must have been a real wild ride to have buckled this far into Prowl’s chassi.

Optimus shuffled, and with Ironhide’s help, threw both his legs over the edge of the berth and attempted to stand. Ratchet was quick to tuck himself on the other side of his friend and lead him toward his command console.

“Get a cargo transport ready for high command, we’re going to that meeting spot now.” Optimus muttered.

“A cargo transport? Why not just a convoy?” Ironhide muttered.

“We _are_ the convoy.” Jazz grumbled as he finally lifted his face from Prowl’s plating.

“Jazz is correct, and with my nerve receptors temporarily disabled until we can sort this issue, I’m not going to be able to transform.” Optimus gave Ironhide’s shoulder a pat. “Besides, we’re under a truce.”

Ironhide made a distasteful face, but kept his opinion to himself.

Prowl got Jazz to his feet, slow and methodical, and he turned him toward the door. “I’m going to go get him ready, I’ll set up a proper defrag session for him while you wake up everyone else.” He didn’t wait for other orders, he knew where his job lay. He also knew he’d ignore anything that wasn’t centered on Jazz first.

Optimus just nodded to their retreating forms and attempted another numbed half step. “We’ll need to wake up Wheeljack and Perceptor.” Grunting suddenly, he shifted his weight into Ironhide’s side. “And someone go throw a bucket of solvent on Brainstorm and tell him to get down to the loading bay, he’s coming with us.”


	12. Insert Disc Twelve

The meeting had been pushed forward and the location changed, but that didn’t really bother him. From what he’d been informed, things were getting progressively more complicated than anyone had originally anticipated. Megatron walked onto the landing strip and rubbed a thumb over the fresh weld marks on his thigh. They still stung, but they would hold. Give them a day or two and they would be nothing more than battle scars.

Well… in a sense.

After rousing his crew and telling them the plans, he now stood waiting to fly to their destination under the great, watchful eye of his apparent Amica Endura. Soundwave was stoic and ramrod straight, but Megatron knew those lines of tension. Soundwave was worried, stood tall beside Megatron or not.

On his other side, Starscream kept flicking glances at the patch work on his thigh. Had this been before the CFB, he’d have shot Starscream in the wing for lingering his gaze with such intent. Only this was after, and that gaze wasn’t malicious, it was… he’d almost say worried. 

Starscream held his lip between his derma before snapping back to attention when Bonecrusher walked toward them from the loading bay. It was plain as day that Starscream wanted to say something, Megatron could feel it rolling off his field, but he wouldn’t. Starscream still had a feint scent of ozone around him after all, he still had the soft buzz of a fairly recent overload coursing through his system. Starscream rather liked his overloads, and unless spoken to he seemed to want to remain quiet.

“Astrotrain said he’ll be ready in ten, my lord.” Bonecrusher rubbed at his face mask and squinted at the datapad. “He’s refueling now but his cargo bay is already unloaded. I made sure of that.”

“I’m sure you did.” Starscream muttered before his optics flicked back to the weld lines. “And you’re _sure_ this will be a smooth flight? Astrotrain has been known to fly a little… bumpy.”

Bonecrusher didn’t even bother rolling his optics behind his visor.

Starscream huffed. “What, just because the entire base knows you’ve got a crush on him doesn’t mean-”

“Starscream.” It was Soundwave who cut in, voice flat but meaning received. He didn’t turn his head, he kept his visor forward.

“Well it’s a valid question.” Starscream hissed, leaning so his words were spoken behind Megatron’s back. Soundwave waited a click and then leaned ever so slightly, narrowing his visor slowly as he turned his attention to Starscream.

With a defeated sigh, Megatron offered a weak smile to Bonecrusher. Bonecrusher just shrugged and turned his attention to his leader, ignoring the hushed whispers behind him. “He’s agreed to take myself and the crew,” never _my_ crew, just _the_ crew, “to the nearest marble site for supplies regarding yesterdays project. We can have everything gathered and drop it off at the designated location before your meeting even finishes.” His glance flicked to Soundwave, who ignored him in favor of glaring at Starscream.

“I do appreciate the effort you all are going through, despite the… situation this morning.” Behind him, both Starscream and Soundwave flinched. “But I’d feel much safer if you and the rest of the Constructicons stayed with us during the meeting. Have Swindle get the supplies, and tell him if he cuts any corners I’ll rip his legs off. I’m really not in the mood to play games.”

Bonecrusher nodded. Megatron had a feeling he was smirking behind his mask as he led them down the lane. 

Dawn seemed to be hidden behind an overcast sky today, but the soft edges of rosy lights were visible peeking through the clouds. There was something about the sun trying to get through the clouds that reminded him of home. Megatron let himself feel nostalgic for a few seconds.

Beside him, Starscream shivered enough to alert him.

“Everything alright?” He watched the soft twitches of Starscream’s wings before they drooped.

“It smells like rain, heavy but very distant.” He shrugged and looked away.

“Well, that would explain why Thundercracker was so energetic this morning when I tried to comm you.” Megatron mumbled. He took the glare Starscream shot him and turned to Soundwave as they reached the ramp. Astrotrain sat in his shuttle mode yawning as Bonecrusher walked inside. “Here we are, Soundwave?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Soundwave took his hand and let Megatron lead him up the ramp, even with his limp. What surprised him more was watching Megatron go back to escort Starscream up the ramp in the same manner.

“You know, you _can_ still bring your Trine along. I wouldn’t mind the air support.” Megatron eased Starscream onto the bench, his lips brushing against the back of his hand. Starscream looked away and huffed.

“Thundercracker needs to stay here to keep the Rainmakers in line when the storm hits, and Skywarp deserves to have some time alone with him since-” He cut himself off and looked away.

Soundwave shifted in place when Megatron sat between the two of them. “Shockwave: On standby for video feed directly from Cybertron.” He looked down at his hands as he folded them together in his lap. “Constructicons gathered, Symbiotes already at agreed upon location and running surveillance.”

Megatron hummed, leaning gently into Soundwave’s side. For a moment he felt nothing but stiffness, but then Soundwave seemed to melt against him and rested his head on Megatron’s shoulder. “Your status?” Soundwave whispered.

“Sore, but fine. I won’t go running if I can help it, but Hook knows what he’s doing.” He reached out, placing a hand over Soundwave’s and feeling the warmth of their palms touch. “I’m sorry I forgot, this morning I mean. I don’t know how I did, I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven for something so egregious.”

“What are you two talking about?” Starscream muttered around a yawn. He’d taken his chances and leaned against Megatron’s other side, but he was stiff about it. He didn’t meet resistance, but it was obvious he was fearful. “Does it have to do with whoever shot you this morning? Gossip travels fast when mechs finish their training drills early.”

Soundwave made the tiniest whine that Megatron knew only he would hear.

“Officially, it has to do with my Amica Endura status to Soundwave.” Normally Megatron wouldn’t share this kind of information with someone like Starscream. Normally any thought of giving Starscream ammo for the future would have made his energon curdle.

But not this time.

Starscream’s wings twitched upward in interest, but his face remained calm. “So you popped the question before getting a speech from me and he shot you in response? Was that a yes or a no? I can never tell with Soundwave.” There was plenty of humor in his voice, even as he leaned away from the gaggle of the Constructicons as they loaded into Astrotrain’s cargo bay.

“More… or less a yes.” Megatron approached the answer with caution, watching the door close.

“We’ll be there in about twenty, my lord. The storm clouds are making visibility a little scattered.” Bonecrusher called from the front of Astrotrain’s controls.

“Thank you Bonecrusher.” Megatron looked around as the rest of the Constructicons began to sit down. A thought occurred to him suddenly. “Oh, that’s right, everyone put on your seat belts.” He reached back and pulled his own off the wall. Everyone stared at him with blank expressions as he buckled himself in. When he looked up to the motionless crew, he sighed. “ _Now_.” He tapped the buckle once and listened to the scramble as his mechs fought to work the straps around their frames. Beside him, Soundwave rested his head against Megatron’s.

_“How very Optimus of you.”_ It wasn’t in his own voice, but it got the point across.

Starscream tried to hold back his snickering by covering it with a cough. Megatron shook his head and squeezed Soundwave’s fingers.

“How very _Jazz_ of you to point that out.” He whispered back. “Honestly Soundwave, it shocks me that you’re acting surprised that there are side effects to something _you_ helped engineer.”

Starscream didn’t hide his snickering this time. He sat up, pushing away from Megatron to pull out a datapad to distract himself.

“It’s not like I didn’t know,” Megatron glanced over at Starscream and smirked, “after all, gossip travels fast.”

Hook laughed loud enough that Scrapper had to fight to try and shush him. Astrotrain took off with a heavy sigh, a glorified taxi cab once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter the gang gets together and talk like adults. Or at least, they attempt to.  
> If you see any errors feel free to point them out, I do my best but I don't have an editor so stuff always slips through.


	13. Insert Disc Thirteen

“You need to sit down.” Ratchet pulled up a crate and offered it to Optimus, but his words were directed as Megatron. Jazz could see every line of tension in his fingers, he knew that Ratchet was fighting with himself not to shoot Megatron on sight. “Those welds look inflamed, and if you can transfer pain who’s to say you can’t transfer nerve degradation from an infection?”

“Excuse you!” Hook bit back not even a second later. “There’s nothing wrong with those welds, I tended that wound myself.” Scrapper sighed and pushed Hook onto a crate of his own. Jazz tried not to smirk as he heard the feint click of a private comm line go off. Apparently someone was being told off for their attitude.

Megatron spoke up, a calm presence where once was a storm. “I assure you I’m fine, my wounds have been seen to. Our medic is every bit as knowledgeable as you are.” Megatron gave Hook a _look_. “And he won’t be starting any fights, nor will he be egging any on. Especially since I was given his word on the ride over?”

That seemed the shame Hook more than anything else, so he looked away. Mixmaster took that as his cue to sit himself between Hook’s legs on the ground, his head resting against the inside of his knee. Hook just crossed his arms and _pouted._ Jazz watched as Long Haul reached out and rubbed sympathetically at his shoulder.

Across from Hook and leaning over a boulder, Ironhide glared with such a stank that it made Jazz’s lip twitch. Beside him and in the center of the Autobots, Optimus sighed and rubbed at his numb leg.

“Megatron’s right, _no_ fighting. We are adults.” He sounded _very_ aggravated. “The sooner we finish this meeting the sooner we can get back home, so please for the love of Primus, be grown ups and stop being petty.”

Jazz agreed with him by humming. He watched the crowd around them gather, took in how Soundwave and Starscream meticulously set up the screen for Shockwave and turned it on to face both factions. When Shockwave came into view, Megatron greeted him with a nod, to which Shockwave returned curtly.

“Hey Shocky, good to see you again.” Brainstorm waved in near excitement, but Jazz _knew_ he was nervous.

_Minor twitch at the corner of the facemask. Dilated optics. Hand wave just a frantic more erratic than Brainstorm’s normally overenthusiastic greeting._

“Do not call me that.” Came the distorted, flat reply. No emotion came with it, which wasn’t surprising, but something about it sent a shiver down Jazz’s spine.

Jazz turned his attention away from Brainstorm’s tense shoulders and toward Starscream’s relaxed hands. Then again, maybe relaxed wasn’t the right word… no, those were _poised_. Starscream’s hands were poised, and the tips of his fingers held _claws_ that he hadn’t kept neat since war time. His legs were crossed and his wings were up, but it paled in comparison to those hands.

Starscream was ready for a fight and hiding it behind polite, relaxed grander. This wasn’t the posture of a second in command, this was the posture of a Prince ready to rip someone’s fuel pump out at the slightest ill word.

Not the first time Jazz had seen it, but definitely the scariest.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet with us.” Megatron’s voice was steady, and he smiled when Soundwave took his place behind his shoulder. The way he stood made it clear to everyone what Soundwave was doing. He was guarding, he was pacifying, he was the immovable mountain and everyone knew it.

“Me too, it’s always nice to see Soundwave’s play button up close.” Jazz couldn‘t help but throw the tease out there, remembering his earlier promise.

Oh, and there it was, that minute twitch to his fans, the soft glow of his visor getting a fraction brighter. Soundwave’s fingers tensed where they rested over one another.

He wasn’t expecting Prowl to smack him across the back of the head. “I told you _no_.” Prowl’s voice was stern but whispered, his gaze was cold as he glared at Soundwave.

Jazz pouted while he rubbed at the back of his head, Prowl was such a spoilsport.

“Speaking of senseless violence,” Megatron chuckled and nudged Soundwave with an elbow, then turned back to the crowd, “My pain output has been cut off from you, Optimus. You can have your medic turn the nerves in your leg back on. I’m sorry I didn’t inform you sooner.” Megatron flashed that weird smile again.

Something about that smile seemed so disgustingly genuine, even analyzed under scrutiny, that it made Jazz shiver enough to alert Prowl. Despite his anger, a hand found its way to Jazz’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m here.” Prowl whispered. Jazz smiled at him and nodded, then turned back to the conversation at hand.

“Thank you, old friend. Ratchet, if you would be so kind?” Optimus shifted and let Ratchet have access to the port on his hip. Ratchet stood and almost eclipsed Optimus by placing himself directly in front of him as he worked. “I’m sorry if any of this has been inconvenient for you these last few days.”

“On the contrary, these last few days have given me _quite_ a lot of time to think and… _reflect_ on my past actions. Many of them are unforgivable, and the fact I let myself get this out of control disgusts me.” Megatron seemed to keep himself calm, but there was a raw truthfulness to his words that made the group quiet.

Optimus cringed when Ratchet pulled away from him, but his attention was obviously caught. “Our pasts are all complicated, we cannot change them, but we _can_ attempt to move forward.”

Megatron shook his head. “What about atonement?” He looked down at his hands. “It’s something I don’t think I deserve, not for the tragedies carried out under my name or order, but my mechs, the ones under the badge…” he waved at the Constructicons.

“All in due time.” Optimus offered a weak smile. “Should we put this subject on hold and focus instead on what brought us here?” He turned to Prowl, who nodded and flicked a finger at his data pad. The little motion threw the image onto the supplied white board and the schematics of the Cerebral Fishnet Bomb glowed in a dark blue.

“Quite the invention, I’m very impressed.” Megatron mused as Prowl began aligning the blueprints.

“You’re welcome.” Came the chorus of several smart afts. Jazz couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Right. Moving on,” Optimus made that _face,_ the one that radiated disappointment, “the C.F.B. was a last ditch effort by both parties, culminating in the current truce to gather our wits.”

Megatron chuckled this time.

“As we can all testify, it hasn’t worked properly.” Optimus muttered that last bit.

“I think it’s gone swimmingly.” Jazz smirked as several mech turned to glare at him. “It got us peace didn’t it? I know a lot of us are still really uncomfortable with the idea, but I think it’s starting to warm up to me, either that or I’m warming up to it. Anyway, I teased Soundwave earlier and didn’t get shot, I call that a win.” He beamed.

Megatron held up a hand and put two fingers close together, as if he were squeezing Jazz’s head from far away. “It was a close thing.” There was humor there, but Jazz could also see the telltale signs of serious thought. While Megatron _hadn’t_ shot him, he’d apparently put plenty of thought into it. Something about that made Jazz smile, he liked this new version of Megatron.

“Regardless of our feelings, the C.F.B. _is_ effecting us negatively.” Optimus said, aggravation seeping into his voice.

“On the contrary,” Shockwave spoke up now, “aside from the output issue, which was minor and easily fixed, there has been no damage caused by the C.F.B. to either party.”

Jazz watched as Ratchet shot to his feet. “Minor!” He thrust his hand at Megatron, then Soundwave. “He could have caused irreversible nerve damage, and he could have offlined Jazz with a sensory overload!”

“Yes. Minor.” Shockwave didn’t miss a beat.

Ratchet narrowed his optics, then turned a glare at Hook. “This was anything but minor, this was almost deliberate.”

“Ratchet.” Optimus warned. Hook would have stood up, had Mixmaster not been between his legs. 

“It’s not my fault he doesn’t have his patients run _proper_ diagnosis on their systems. Some medic he is.” There was a drop of silence before Hook roared.

“Come over here and say that to my face you two bit hack!” He screamed as Scrapper and Mixmaster held him in place, even though he was affectively trying to climb over the latter.

“You’re a scrappy doctor!” Ratchet bellowed as Ironhide grabbed him by the arm and planted his feet in the dirt. Jazz leaned back and watched as both Megatron and Optimus shared a look before simultaneously turned to their CMO’s.

“Enough!” Optimus directed his shout at Ratchet and stomped in front of him.

Megatron took a different approach. The air around his arm seemed to hum as he turned toward the Constructicons. There were dim lights glowing in his elbow joints, weapons systems engaging. Jazz reached out to grab Prowl’s wrist and shove him aside if he needed.

But he never activated his weapon, instead he looked Hook directly in the optic and _nodded_ at the seat he’d flung himself out of. Hook froze, then seemed cowed as he dropped to the crate. Mixmaster turned and wrapped his arms around Hook’s chest, be it to protect him or comfort him. Long Haul was quick to take up space at his back, whispering quietly alongside Scrapper.

Megatron powered down his protocols and sat again, then looked over at the argument Ratchet and Optimus were having. Jazz was so thoroughly impressed.

And then he noticed Soundwave stowing a gun back into his subspace. Jazz hadn’t even caught that thing on his scanners when they’d all passed through them. Soundwave felt optics on him and turned, then had the audacity to _wink_ at Jazz.

‘ _I saw that._ ’ Jazz mouthed when he was sure that Prowl wasn’t paying attention.

“Do I have to have you escorted out of here, because I will!” Optimus’ shout made Jazz jump. He turned to see small puffs of smoke rising from his stacks, his face stern and almost furious. There was a rage there that Jazz had only ever seen on Megatron. “I will _not_ let your pettiness disrupt this meeting and end this truce, what in the frag has gotten into you!” Optimus let out a long sigh and shook his head. “You know what, I don’t care. Ironhide get him out of here.”

“What?” Ratchet balked at him.

“Where uh… where do you want me to take him?” Ironhide asked nervously. “I’m not really comfortable leaving you by yourself.”

“Oh I don’t care, stick him in a corner so he can think about what he’s done.” Optimus walked back to his seat and sat down with a huff.

“You are _not_ putting me in time out.” Ratchet crossed his arms, but Optimus looked up at him and narrowed his optics. “… Oh.”

“I’ve got O.P.’s back ‘Hide, you go take a walk with the Hatchet and let him cool his jets.” Jazz piped up. Prowl hummed, still fiddling with the schematics on the screen in an attempt to avoid confrontation.

Brainstorm seemed to duck into himself, trying very hard not to let out a burst of nervous laughter as Ironhide hurried Ratchet away. Prowl finally looked up and narrowed his optics at Brainstorm.

“Think of what Perceptor would say if he saw you like that.” Prowl scolded.

“Why didn’t you bring me along, I have every right to be here, Brainstorm stop that you look like a turtle?” Brainstorm shrugged and tried to right himself. “He could have joined us and scolded me properly, but instead he’s back cooped up in his lab.”

Starscream scoffed, reminding mecha of his presence. “What’s got him so glued to his work desk today?”

Prowl looked over and shrugged his door wings. “A cure for the C.F.B.” A somber kind of quiet fell over the crowd, and Jazz felt struts in his spine tense up. He could read the question on many faces, and he wondered it too.

If they cured the effects, would the truce still hold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, no beta, just doing my best. Feel free to point out any mistakes, and enjoy~


	14. Insert Disc Fourteen

The silence felt like an itch under his plating, and it unnerved him. Soundwave was used to silence, he used its weight like a weapon or a gift. He owned silence, he mastered sound to the smallest scratch.

Yet here and now, he felt almost panicked in its absence. He looked up to see Jazz sharing a similar look, itchy and uncomfortable under the absence. Jazz's shoulders drooped and a million thoughts flew through Soundwave's mind on how he should categorize that, but then he looked down.

Prowl was holding Jazz's hand under the cover of their seats. Their fingers looped together, thumb rolling over a ring finger. They spoke a few words in hand, then parted, but they did not get far from one another. Prowl turned and offered Jazz a smile so loving, so sweet, that Soundwave could feel his spark flutter at the want of it.

Soundwave stared for longer than necessary and wasn't surprised when Jazz cleared his engine. He made a show of stretching both arms above his helm when Soundwave blinked at him.

“Well, now that the laundry is hung up.” He muttered, almost refusing to catch Soundwave's visor with his own. 

“Let's get back on task, shall we?” Megatron's voice was warm and filled the space in a way only he could. Soundwave slumped and let his EM Field reach out to his friend, let it curl around him in comfort. “This truce has been exceedingly optic opening, and I have to say I'm stunned by the results.”

Starscream snorted, then nearly squawked as he flailed his arms out to keep balance when Megatron gave him a playful shove.

“Hush. Had I known that my troops were this overtaxed a week ago...” He looked to his knees in a clear sign of shame.

“You wouldn't have done anything.” Prowl said flatly.

Megatron looked up in shock. “Excuse you?” There was a slight edge of hysterical laughter in Megatron's voice.

“You wouldn't have done anything.” Prowl repeated. “A week ago you weren't under the effects of the Cerebral Fishnet Bomb, your judgment was based on millennia of hatred. You would have told your troops to... Jazz, help me put this elegantly?”

Smirking, Jazz leaned into Prowl's side. “Suck it up your tailpipe and keep walking, bub.”

“Thank you, you're a master with words.” Prowl's voice was deadpan as he looked straight ahead.

Optimus snorted and covered it with a cough. “I'm afraid Prowl is right.” He attempted a smile. “A week ago, we were happy to beat one anothers' throats in, and I'm sure plenty of us still are.” He waved a hand at the retreating forms of Ironhide and Ratchet. “But it's not a week ago, it's now. We must focus on the present and the feelings we have now.”

Soundwave didn't need to skim the top of Optimus' thoughts to know what else he wanted to say. He knew that Optimus wanted all of this settled before the effects of the Bomb were reversed and Megatron changed his mind, as he was wont to do. The thought of going back on this truce, by Primus, the thought of the truce running its course... it left a pit in his tanks. Would he be able to follow Megatron back into battle, or had the Bomb started to affect his loyalty?

Or was he honestly just as tired as the rest of them?

“I want to make this peace a permanent thing.” Megatron's voice felt like too much high grade. 

Had he been a lesser mech, Soundwave would have fallen to his knees and wept for joy. But he wasn't a lesser mech, he was Soundwave, he was composed.

Starscream was _not._

“You mean that?” Starscream had sat upright, no longer regal but frantic and vents flared. His claws were curled over his knees and his wings were trembling. “You absolutely mean that, because if you're lying so help me-” Megatron reached out, a hand placed gently on Starscream's shoulder.

“I have never been more sure of something in my entire life.” His smile was calm, his voice steady. He looked back and locked optics with Soundwave, and something in him broke under the truth of his words.

Composure be damned, he took that step forward and wrapped his arms around Megatron's waist as he buried his face against his back. He could feel his body trembling despite every protocol he was throwing up to stop it. A hand rested against his own on Megatron's waist, another reaching up to pet the back of his helm before he was let go.

“So... you surrender?” Brainstorm asked from somewhere over Megatron's shoulder.

“No, not at all.” Megatron didn't move to dislodge Soundwave from his new home buried against his back. “Quite the opposite.”

“Well we aren't surrendering.” Optimus said, voice flat.

“And I'm not asking you to.” Megatron laughed and Soundwave could feel it reverb through his plating. He'd crawl out of here eventually, but for now the comfort was needed until he could find his composure again. “I want to open negotiations. Change will not happen overnight, I know this, but if we can come together and set out rules or guidelines between our two factions-”

“So, laws.” Jazz interrupted. “And just how long until we get Peace Keepers?” There was a bitterness to his words that snapped Soundwave to attention. With great reluctance he withdrew from his position. He took a step back, peering at the crowd from just behind Megatron's shoulder once again.

He made sure to lock optics with Jazz and keep him there.

Jazz looked away first when Prowl poked him hard in the side.

“No peace keepers, no laws. I don't want to settle on something that restrictive. If you break a law, there can be terrible consequences, if you break a rule you can learn from it.” Megatron opened a comm link with Starscream and shared a few words, then smiled when Starscream nodded and stood up. “I want these to be proper negotiations. I want both sides to feel comfortable, I want us all to come to a set of rules that we all can agree upon. I, Megatron of Kaon, will represent my people.”

“And I, Starscream of Vos, Winglord, Prince of my Flight, will represent _my_ people.” Starscream gave a proper bow, one Soundwave had seen him practice so many millennia ago in front of dignitaries. “We may also be Decepticons, but Seekers of my ilk come with our own variety of... lets call them _needs_ , that Megatron has agreed to let me negotiate for.”

Megatron nodded, then turned to Soundwave and opened a line to him.

_:'Would you do me the honor of speaking for any who feel my future plans do not meet their own? Would you talk with them and help them, would you be their voice?':_

Soundwave reset his visor and smiled behind his mask.

_:'Do you honestly think any of them are going to disagree with you?':_ He asked, genuinely curious.

_:'Humor me?':_ Megatron's smile shifted into a smirk as he waved a hand to present Soundwave.

_:'I'm not speaking in front of them. Not even with a borrowed voice, not right now. You can declare me your third all you like.':_ He watched as Megatron rolled his optics and turned back to the group.

“Soundwave will be handling any personal requests brought forth, and is my third and final ambassador on this forefront. Feel free to have as many ambassadors as you like on your side.” He turned to the vid-screen. “Shockwave, would you be willing to set aside any differences you have to work together in the future with Autobots on projects to help make Cybertron more habitable for our eventual move home?”

_'Without question, my lord.'_ Shockwave gave a simple, curt nod. _'In fact, if that is all, may I be released from this meeting to start up my own plans for a future science division? I will happily-_ Brainstorm bit back a laugh, _'-present my ideas to the Autobot in charge of their own division, that way we can both come to an agreement about our ideas together.'_

Megatron turned to Optimus and shrugged “I don't see a problem with it, do you?”

When Optimus didn't reply right away, every mech turned to him with expectant optics. He seemed to be too stunned to move or speak. Eventually, Jazz let out a long sigh.

“Wow, hey, okay, why don't we call this a recess? We'll pick back up in what, ten minutes?” He pushed himself to his feet and looped a hand under Optimus' arm. “We'll be right over here, feel free to talk amongst yourselves.” With no effort, he pulled his commander to his feet and began dragging him away. Most of the Autobots followed with confused looks on their faces.

Prowl lingered.

When Megatron turned to chat with his now animated group of Constructicons, Prowl took that as a sign and marched right up to Soundwave. He ignored how close Starscream hovered behind him.

“Commander Soundwave.” Prowl gave a curt nod.

“Commander. Prowl.” Soundwave played two separate clips; one a repeat of Prowl's voice, the other Jazz's accusatory whine.

Prowl showed no sign of being affected other than the tightening of his plating. “It has come to my... _attention,_ that Jazz might be flirting with you.” He said, matter of fact.

“Might be?” Starscream muttered just a few feet away.

“And I just want to set the record straight, here and now.” Prowl brushed off his thigh and held his datapad closer. “If this peace continues and our factions do merge, or simply begin to co-exist, that Jazz is important to me. Something I'm sure you, as a Spymaster, already knew.” Soundwave nodded, but kept quiet.

He suddenly felt like there were eyes burning into his back. The feeling was unnerving in a way he hadn't expected it to be. Spymasters had to be able to draw attention as well as disappear in a crowd. Starscream was honing in on him like a silver tipped vulture.

“Well, I just want to inform you that should you seek a romantic future with him, that it will be one that includes me.” Prowl waited for Soundwave to react. 

He didn't.

“Jazz and I come as a pair.” Prowl explained. “I am not attracted to you in the slightest, take that as an offense or not, but Jazz seems to find you interesting. If this leads to something more than know your future won't just be with him, it will be with me. And I will not let him out of my sight.”

Starscream stepped up finally, all smirk and claws draped over Soundwave's tense shoulder. “I never took you as the voyeur type.” He preened, hand a steady anchor for Soundwave.

“This was and is a private conversation.” Prowl said with the hint of a bite to it. Starscream just shrugged, leaning into Soundwave's side. “And for your information, I'm not. Who Jazz chooses to interface with is entirely his own, who he chooses to _love_ though?” This time Prowl turned a cold glare directly into Soundwave's visor. “ _That_ I have a say in.” He turned his heel and marched off to join the other Autobots.

Starscream cackled, face hidden behind Soundwave's shoulder. “Primus, someone sure is planning ahead.” He teased. “Like you'd be interested in _Jazz._ Just because someone flirts with you doesn't mean you fall face first into their valve.” Starscream gave Soundwave's shoulder a gentle pat. “But hey, more information in case things go windshield up.” He turned back to the group of bouncing Constructicons and sighed. “I'll be right back.”

Soundwave let him go and remained rooted to the spot.

_What_ just happened?


	15. Insert Disc Fifteen

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Optimus muttered, head in his hands as Ratchet rubbed his back. “It's got to be something like ulterior motives, do you think?” He asked, optics shut as his mind tried to wrap around Megatron's words and actions.

“It's got to be.” Ratchet said, it was obvious he was trying for reassurance. Instead it came out slightly confused..

“I don't think so, my man.” Jazz sat on Prowl's thigh, having been pulled close earlier with no sign of escape. There was a face pressed to his back, arms hooked around his waist, and Jazz knew he was anchored. Apparently someone was feeling insecure now that they were out of sight of the Decepticons. “I didn't get any insincerity off them when I was looking them over. I think they really just... want _peace_.” He watched most of the faces around him contort in confusion.

Ironhide grunted and stared at the floor, arms crossed.

“This doesn't make any _sense._ ” Optimus repeated, just like he'd done for the last ten minutes. Ratchet tutted and rubbed his back some more, a continued soothing presence.

Brainstorm shrugged. “Maybe there doesn't have to be a motive behind all of this?” Jazz looked over at him with a smile. “Well, think about it. What if it isn't ulterior, what if... what if they're just really...”

“Tired.” Prowl said, muffled from behind Jazz's back. “They're tired.”

Under any other circumstances, Ironhide would have said something along the lines of 'Then now is the perfect time to strike,' but instead he remained quiet. His shoulders had tensed up, Jazz could see it out of the corner of his visor. Ironhide wanted to hit something, but instead he was having an internal argument.

Prowl sat up finally, resting his head instead on Jazz's shoulder. “Optimus,” he waited until he had the mech's attention, “every day since the truce, the Decepticons have been relaxing. Every day they've taken to resting and enjoying themselves, and what have we done?”

Optimus looked back at the floor, guilt etched into his features.

“We've been on edge.” Jazz answered for him.

“We have indeed.” Prowl said.

Jazz let one of his hands rest over Prowl's as it brushed his stomach. “My mechs won't sleep unless I force them to, they are training twice as hard, they won't relax. Smokes burst into tears yesterday because he was so anxious for something to _happen_ that he didn't know what to do. They're so used to war that they don't know what to do with _peace_.” A quiet settled around the mechs as they sat in the cargo bay.

Ratchet's hand had finally stopped moving.

Jazz continued. “None of them know how to relax anymore, and yet the Decepticons are just... they're so _tired_ that it's all they can do to stay awake. They've been pushed so hard for so long that they're willing to do anything for even a scrap of peace, while our mechs don't even know what to do with themselves _during_ peace. They've relaxed more during the war than they have since this truce started.” He turned his head to look at Prowl, who nodded.

“I think we should seriously consider this.” Prowl's grip on Jazz's hips had gotten tight enough to bend the metal.

Optmus looked up again and nodded after a moment. “I'm not sure how we'll... I don't know how to go about this right now, but I trust you, both of you. Your guidance and the guidance of our fellow Autobots is greatly appreciated.”

Jazz smirked. “Does that mean we're your ambassadors?”

Prowl shoved him in the shoulder.

–

Everyone was back in the awkward circle at the meeting area as Megatron and Optimus hashed out certain 'rules' they thought might be useful for the future of their race, occasionally asking their Ambassadors for opinions.

“I think we should move back to Cybertron.” Starscream spoke up when a lull finally settled over the makeshift table. On the screen behind them, a group of Autobots began talking, each trying to be heard over the other. Jazz sighed and walked into the camera view, settling his hands on his hips and giving the screen a _look._ His men settled pretty quickly, but a few mechs continued to voice their opinions.

“Quiet everyone, Cybertron isn't ready to support life just yet.” Optimus said, gentle but sad. The noise from the screen relaxed into quiet whispers.

“And yet Shockwave seems to be fairing perfectly well.” Starscream's arms crossed in defiance, and Optimus narrowed his optics and readied a rebuttal.

To everyone's surprise, Megatron was the one who spoke against the idea. “Shockwave has sequestered himself in his labs, he rarely leaves the safety of his walls to do anything other than take readings.” His hand was a weight on Starscream's shoulder that Jazz cataloged in great detail. There was a kindness there, a familiar history that was unspoken by both.

Starscream's wings twitched.

“Perhaps we can put more effort into fixing the climate then? I'm willing to submit my skill toward the revival efforts of our home planet.” Starscream said, leaning in to Megatron's touch. “I _am_ a scientist after all, and I miss the skies above Vos.”

Prowl hummed, optics half lidded. “I miss the Awakening Festivals in Praxus, and the sound of the Rust Sea against the boarder. I think focusing on a revival effort will strengthen the peace between us and give us a common goal. One other than fighting.” He turned to Jazz and reached out a hand. Jazz took it, stepping closer to Prowl and guarding his back. There were no outward signs of stress, but Jazz knew the wound would always be open.

Praxus was a bombed wasteland now, a sore that would never properly heal if Prowl never got to step foot on Cybertron again.

Optimus smiled and nodded. “Alright, so renewed efforts on reshaping the atmosphere, on resurrecting or rehabilitating flora and fauna.”

“On taming the Insecticons.” Jazz muttered.

“I never meant for them to get so out of hand.” Megatron admitted. “Had I known... well, we've covered how useless that train of thought is. What we can do is instead look forward to the future, to a Cybertron under peace.” This time he turned his smile toward Optimus.

The Prime's fans clicked on. Jazz didn't even bother to hide his smirk, and he watched as Soundwave rolled the lights in his visor.

“To a future on Cybertron under peace.” Optimus nearly whispered. “Right, now... about this rule.” He said, obviously flustered.

–

“To peace!” The crowd in the rec room shouted as they toasted their glasses and cubes.

“Yeah, sure, to peace.” Inferno muttered into his cube, slumping against one of the beanbags that Jazz had pulled out for everyone. Beside him, Red Alert crooned softly and nestled against his side. That was the safest place to be after all. 

Inferno turned, letting Red Alert bump their cheeks in greeting, but continued to stare at his knees.

With a sudden, heavy sigh, Red Alert shifted so he was better settled on the bean bag and took the cube from Inferno. “Talk to me.” He stated.

“About what?” Inferno grumbled.

“You know what.” Red Alert sniffed at the cube and made a face.

“Ugh, fine... it... this doesn't feel real.” Inferno whispered. “It doesn't feel _right._ Everything was war for millennia and now it's suddenly just... not? I don't...” He shook his head and hugged his chest. “War is all I know anymore, Red, it's all _you_ know either.” He curled further in on himself.

Red Alert hesitated, but nodded. “Well... yes that's true, but that doesn't mean we have to wallow. I know I sort of lost it the other day, or well, most days, but think about the future.” He held up the cube to the light so the colors bathed down on the two of them. “We could go home to Cybertron, we could start a business, start a garden, have a yard, get a puppy.” As he lowered the cube, he ran his thumb across the rim where Inferno's lips had been. “We could- I mean, I could...”

Inferno watched the uncertainty flash across Red Alert's face. Why had all his enthusiasm suddenly drained, he'd just been so animated about their future that-

Inferno squeaked.

_Their_ future.

“I could look into, I dunno, private security or-” Inferno cut Red off by snatching the cube away from him and shoving it on the nearest table. When he turned back, Red Alert looked flushed.

“You want to get an apartment together?” He asked, trying not to crack his face plates with his smile. “Or, I mean, I guess if you want a yard we'd have to get a little house. A house would be better, you could set up all the security yourself, somewhere nice on the edge of town. Do you _actually_ want to start a garden though, or were you just running with the idea?” Red Alert's engine whined as he stared at Inferno, flustered now. “And I don't want a puppy, I want a shelter dog. Lets adopt a middle aged dog with big ears and- I don't know, a fat belly.”

Red Alert reached out, hands hot as he took Inferno's and buried his face against his shoulder. “I want to start a garden with you, and adopt a big fat dog, and build a fence and... I want to live with you.” His words were whispered. “We already share a room because I need someone to keep an eye on me, and I don't... I don't want to live by myself, and I don't want to be away from you and I... am rambling.”

Inferno laughed and pressed his lips to the top of Red Alert's helm. “I want to live with you too.” He whispered back. “Let's be domestic.”

–

“How do you...” Bumblebee fought back a hiccup as he leaned into Mirage's side on their shared bench. “How do you think housing is going to work?” He asked, face suddenly serious. Mirage laughed and eased the high grade away from him.

“Probably just gonna... unbury the ship and land it on Cybertron until they build a berthing the bath in.” Smokescreen smacked his lips together suddenly in confusion. “Did I say that right?

“Not at all.” Mirage said through his laughter. Smokescreen frowned at his cube and began muttering under his breath, trying to say the correct sequence of words.

“Do you think some people will stay?” Sunstreaker asked, entirely too sober. “Or at least have the option to stay if they really wanted to?”

Beside him, Sideswipe hummed. “Yeah, I don't think Boss is cruel enough to force people anywhere, I think moving to Cybertron is entirely optional.”

“Why do so many words start with the letter B?” Smokescreen whispered.

“Who do you think is gonna stay?” Bumblebee asked, trying in vain to get his drink back from Mirage.

A quiet settled before Sunstreaker chuckled. “Tracks.”

Sideswipe nodded, but he looked sad. “He might stay until Raoul's gone, but then he'd go back.” The quiet settled again and Bumblebee gave up trying to take his drink back, instead lettng himself lay across Mirage's lap.

The conversation continued eventually, mundane topics with the slightly inebriated. Eventually, Mirage passed the cube back to Bumblebee and started petting his helm. “Do you think Jazz will go home?” He asked suddenly.

“Uh, duh.” Sideswipe interrupted his own thoughts to chime in. “Prowl's going. Where Prowl goes, he goes.”

“Prowl might not go though.” Smokescreen muttered. “Praxus is gone. There's nothing left.” He seemed to have abandoned trying to say things clearly in favor of frowning at the floor.

“Yeah but... but that's why we're going back.” Bumblebee said. “So we can rebuild and stuff.” He hummed and downed the rest of his cube. “Okay, someone carry me back to my berth. I'm out of it.” Smokescreen laughed and stood up, reaching for Bumblebee. Mirage made sure he was in good hands before turning and smiling at the rest of the group.

“I'm gonna go find Ironhide and see if he wants to make out with me.” He slipped away while Sunstreaker snorted into his cube.


	16. Insert Disc Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited, as always. Feel free to point out any mistakes.

Soundwave lay on his berth that night staring at his ceiling, his fingers looped together over his spark as he contemplated life. His cassettes were scattered about the ship either spying on mechs for fun or enjoying the festivities after Megatron's address, but he was _here_. True, he was happy about the peace, but something wasn't sitting right with him. The other ped had yet to drop, at least that's what he thought this all felt like. 

He'd been picking through his coding as a distraction since they'd gotten back, cutting off redirects or rewriting them. Something was bugging him in the lines, possibly the reoccurring string of coding that kept trying to redirect to an unknown output every few kliks. He didn't know where it came from, where it was going, what it was doing, but it was _continuous_. After conferring with the copies of the codes Ratchet and Jazz had sent him, he noticed something... odd about that code. Whatever it was, Megatron didn't have it, neither did Jazz for that matter, but Optimus...

That code floated and settled inside Optimus, writing itself in like a base for the very core of his existence.

So why was it writing itself into Soundwave's coding and floating away as if it were a lost steampup? What was the purpose of those few lines that had him so... on edge?

A knock at the door made him look up and push off the berth. He hadn't heard the mech come up, but with little effort he could that it was Megatron. Soundwave would know that nervous field anywhere. He waved a hand at the door and sat back on his bed. Megatron stood on the other side and smiled, his optics flicking about the room.

“Worry unnecessary. Ravage: Not present.” Soundwave pieced the vocals together, grinning behind his mask.

Megatron chuckled in response, but Soundwave could see how much he relaxed at the thought of not having to face Ravage.

“May I come in?” Megatron asked, leaning against the doorway so his weight was off his injured leg. Soundwave nodded and stood once again, arm reaching out to wrap around Megatron's side as he guided him toward the berth. Getting him to sit was difficult, but when he finally settled against the wall Soundwave joined him and leaned into his side.

Megatron's arm lifted and lay over Soundwave's shoulders, the two sitting in the quiet while Megatron pulled out a datapad and began to read. Soundwave let his battle mask lift, his optics shuttered as he felt each slow intake Megatron made. It had been so long since they'd sat together like this, simply enjoying the company. The silence was a welcome and Soundwave didn't take it for granted. Hours went by where they just sat there, Megatron flicking the screen up or down while Soundwave rewrote his coding.

Megatron voice caught Soundwave by surprise. “Thank you for this.” He whispered, for all appearances still reading. Soundwave simply hummed. “I missed it, I didn't realize that I...” He trailed off again and took a deep breath. “Soundwave?”

Soundwave opened his optics and chirped in question. He could see the tension in Megatron's throat cables as he thought. Words were stuck behind his lips, guilt flooding his optics as he closed the datapad and set it aside. Something was bothering Megatron, and that alone was enough to unnerve Soundwave. For several long moments they sat in thick silence, then Megatron spoke.

“I can't remember our Amica rites.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can't remember asking you. I thought it was strange to begin with, but the more I think about it the more I realize that I can't remember the ceremony either. There's... there's a chunk of time missing.” Soundwave blinked up at him in surprise. “It gets worse, honestly.”

“Soundwave: Listening.” He sat up, watching the way Megatron stared at his thighs.

More silence, this one begrudging. “I...” Megatron dropped his hands to his lap and squeezed them together. “I checked my memory banks, checked the logs. I personally deleted that chunk, but I don't know why.” The admittance seemed to cut Megatron like a knife. “In fact there are several parts of my past I've just... cut out, as if I willing chose to ignore or forget them. Why would I...” Soundwave reached out, a hand over Megatron's before he turned the palm up and looped their fingers together.

_'Sentiment will only keep me from making the choices that need to be made.'_ Soundwave played an old clip, age distorting Megatron's words that were full of emotion and desperation. _'We can't win a war with softened sparks. You are my greatest weakness, and were anyone to find that out and hurt you because of me... it would kill me. I can't have them rooting through my mind to get to you.'_

Megatron stared at him in dawning horror.

“You... you've known this entire time?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. Soundwave only nodded.

“You told me never to bring it up, so I didn't.” His own voice box crackled, his words sounding foreign. “I was protecting you.”

Megaton's horror was replaced with guilt and admiration as he reached out and cupped Soundwave's scared cheek. “At what cost to yourself?” He whispered. “I cannot fathom the pain it must have put you through to know I was always a touch away. Can you... _Primus,_ can you _ever_ forgive me?” Megatron sounded broken, pleading for an outcome he obviously didn't believe he deserved.

“Megatron.” Soundwave let go of his hand and cupped both his cheeks, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “There's nothing to forgive. I knew what I agreed to. I will always follow you, even if you wiped me from your memory completely, I'll always be by your side.”

He hadn't expected Megatron to start crying as he leaned forward to kiss him. The surprise was there, but Soundwave knew it was a chaste kiss. It was so similar to one they'd shared in the past. This wasn't some romantic ploy, this was just Megatron briefly pressing his lips to Soundwave's before pulling back to bury his face against his shoulder. This level of raw emotion, of weakness laid bare... Soundwave didn't know what to do with it.

Or rather, he _did_ know what to do with it, and that was protect it fiercely. He'd never seen Megatron breakdown like this, not even in the worst experiences, but here, _now_...

“Megatron?” He reached up, claws brushing the edge of the panel that led to memory share. “May I?” He unhooked his own cable and held it in his other hand, waiting for a response.

At first there was a look of fear, but when Megatron pulled back he had a gentle smile on his face that Soundwave was becoming more and more acquainted with. Peace was bringing back something in Megatron, something Soundwave had long since thought destroyed. Raw emotion bleed through, and not the decades of anger that had riddled Megatron before.

Slowly he lifted a hand to his helm, tapping the panel open and drawing out the cord before he let it hang from his neck. His hand reached out, guiding Soundwave's claws and cord to him. He nodded, a soft, adoring smile on his face before Soundwave clicked the cords together. A pulse ran through him, something in him shuddering as his vision went white and the playback began.

–

_The room was dark, the building shaking as bombs went off above them while walls crumbled and dead mechs lay strewn about the room. Soundwave was stuck, pinned to the floor by rebar in his thigh. Megatron stood over him, hands wrapped around the bar as he tried to tug it out._

_“I've got this.” Megatron insisted. Above them dust began to fall from rattled rafters. “Just a klik more.” He pulled and flinched when Soundwave screamed, hands clutching at the rebar._

_“Not. Working.” Soundwave moaned, optics flickering with shock. “Go, get out.” He leaned against the concrete that had fallen behind him, his fans stirring up dust. The arena was coming down around them, their fellow gladiators either dead or already out the escape tunnels._

_“I'm not leaving you.” Megatron growled, fingers twisting around the rebar. “I'm never leaving you.” He pulled hard, energon squirting up the rebar._

_“Megatron, you're too important to die here.” Soundwave couldn't help but let laughter tumble out of his throat, fear edging inside of him and bubbling to the surface. There was still so much energon dribbling down his face. “The cause would be-”_

_“Shut up.” Megatron yanked harder, finally pulling the rebar out. The metal flew backwards, thumping and splatting against the ground before it rolled along the hallway. “There, good, now to get you up.” Kneeling down, Megatron looped an arm beneath Soundwave's knees and around his shoulders._

_With some effort he was able to pull Soundwave out of the wreckage and cradle him close to his chest. Energon dripping down the hole in Soundwave's thigh, the color pouring down Megatron's hip._

_“You'd get out faster on your own.” Soundwave muttered. “Didn't ask you for help.”_

_“Yeah well, you don't ask me a lot of things.” Megatron said with a grunt. “Not anymore at least. Used to be I could ask you anything.”_

_“Still can.” Soundwave tilted his head as Megatron began down another hallway. He stopped his trek when the walls shook violently. Megatron turned and pressed his back to the wall, the ceiling in the hallway they'd just come from was crumbling bit by bit._

_He sighed. “Alright, anything?” Megatron pushed off the wall and headed toward the dim light that led to what they both knew was an exit._

_“Whatever you want.” Soundwave hissed and arched his back, claws digging into Megatron's shoulder._

_“Fine. Will you be my Amica?” Megatron asked through gritted teeth. “And I don't know, stop sharpening your claws on whetstones? Did you bust through my armor with those things, by the pit!”_

_Soundwave stared at him, visor resetting a few times before a loud roar went off overhead and the hallway behind them collapsed in completely, slamming into Megatron's back. He just managed to be on the edge of safety but fell to a knee, Soundwave held tight in his arms._

_“Is your leg okay?”_

_“I'm fine.”_

_“Then yes.” Soundwave gasped out through the pain when Megatron got to his feet and began walking again. “We should... let's just do it now, right here. Let's be Amica.” Megatron's laughter filled the space as they climbed up the rising walkway._

_“Perfect, shift for me.” Megatron stiffened a bit but pushed open his chest plates, baring his spark to Soundwave who in turn bared his own back. “Formal rights, I bathe you in the light of my spark, love you always, all that, we're Amica's.” He moved to close his chest but was stopped when Soundwave's hands grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him in. His mask flipped up in an instant, their lips pressed together as their sparks sought one another out. The sound of energon dripping to the floor echoed._

_The joining was short and impersonal, but it was theirs. When Soundwave pulled away they quickly closed their sparks off and laughed, joy filling them as much as the endorphins would allow._

_“Medic.” Soundwave decided. “Must have hit a line. Run.” Megatron didn't think twice before he pulled Soundwave closer and ran toward the light._

–


	17. Insert Disc Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd. I'm also going to warn you guys, gals, and gools that I'm loosing steam for this fic and Death Did Us Part. I love them both dearly but all my ideas keep going nowhere and I have to rework and blah blah blah I might be shelving these fics. This has got maybe one or two chapters left of solid ideas before I run into a wall. Feel free to suggest plot lines you want me to explore.

Dragging himself out of recharge, Jazz sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. Next to him on the berth, Prowl groaned and rolled onto his side, his hand patting sleepily at Jazz's hip.

“Come back here.” Prowl mumbled, not at all conscious. Jazz crooned softly, lulling Prowl back to sleep with his voice alone. When he was sure that the other mech was out, Jazz scrubbed at his cheeks and pushed his visor up to better stare at the far wall. He'd been drifting in his sleep, floating soundly in that comfortable memory of an echo chamber when a bad flux sideswiped him.

A memory flux that wasn't his own.

He watched as if viewing from Soundwave's optics, felt the phantom echo of pain and current devotion. Jazz relived Soundwave's Amica Endura ceremony and felt every drop of adoration that had been poured into it. Just the thought of Megatron made him smile now, and _that _made him nauseated. He couldn't even treat the memory like a bad dream and purge it, after all it wasn't his own to purge. There was the option of deletion from his memory drive, but Jazz hated deleting anything that might be useful later on.__

__Still..._ _

__Jazz let out a shaky breath and closed his optics, playing the memory one more time before filing it away as a password encoded attachment._ _

_____Soundwave, Communication Officer for the Decepticons, Overall Pain in my Aft, Carrier to The Most Terrifying set of Annoyances to Exist - See Subsection : ( No Previously known name? )_  
Truce In Place - Current Threat Level - Ehh with a Noncommittal Shrug. ( Reduced from ‘Shoot For The Face’ )  
One of Four affected by the Cerebral Fishnet Bomb. See: Suddenly Emotions!   
Check all Input relays for incoming codes. Evaluate Further.   
+Attachment - “MemoryFlux0001” 

__Jazz pressed his palms to his optics and groaned, feeling Prowl reach out and drag him closer by his hip._ _

__“Recharge. Time.” Prowl grumbled, his face pressed into the nearest bit of Jazz he could reach. Smiling, Jazz wiggled and slid back down the berth, one leg sliding between Prowl's before he pulled his visor back down and shut his optics. He could dig into this later, right now he just wanted to feel Prowl wrapped around him like the obnoxious sleepy barnacle he was._ _

__–_ _

__Brawn woke for his mid night-cycle workout, a regular run on the treadmill to release excess energy and help him function better throughout the day, and he could already tell today would be strange. Running was something he'd been doing for as long as he could remember, with a body like his he had to keep going after all. There was already a light on in the gym though, which wasn't a surprise, but it _was_ unusual. The normal culprits were the occasional mech from Spec Ops who needed to let loose some steam, or someone would get their days and nights mixed up after a mission or two._ _

__From time to time he'd have company on his late night run, so he was expecting anyone from Mirage to Ratchet._ _

__He wasn't expecting _Optimus_ , but as he turned the corner into the room _there_ the mech was. He'd positioned himself in the back by the punching stands, his fans on blast as he threw jab after jab._ _

__“Uhh... hey there boss.” Brawn called out, not surprised in the slightest when Optimus jumped in shock. One of his hands flew to his spark, the other in a guarded position. “What's got _you_ up so late?” He didn't comment on the posture._ _

__“I... I couldn't seem to recharge.” Optimus admitted, his plating relaxing. “I thought if I could wear down my energy reserves I could get some rest.” Brawn nodded sagely, heading over to his usual treadmill. He dig a few standard stretches, then climbed up ad pressed his hand to the access scanner. Always start slow, a walk, later a jog, then the run._ _

__“You know,” he turned his head and watched as Optimus walked over to one of the benches facing the treadmills, “that doesn't always work. Wearing yourself out I mean, and trust me I would know. Even if your body is tired, your mind might not be. You'll wake up and it'll be like you never even slept. Trust me on this, I've got years of experience.”_ _

__Optimus nodded. “I know all too well my friend.” He slumped against the bench. “I'm not sure what else to do though. I've got so many things running though my head and not enough answers. I always have the answers, but now...”_ _

__“You feel lost.” Brawn decided, a sage nod thrown in before he crossed his arms. “It's not the first time, war has put you in this position plenty. So what's different about now?”_ _

__“I... I'm not sure? The fact it isn't war?” Optimus shrugged. “I've never felt this angry before, and I'm not even sure if it's anger! It honestly... it feels more like... more like frustration?” He flexed his hands a few times and leaned back._ _

__“Sounds like it's more annoying than anything else.” Brawn admitted._ _

__“It is.” Optimus whined as he pulled his legs up to the bench. “I feel better when I'm practicing or by myself, but when other mechs are around it gets worse.”_ _

__“Oh, am I bothering you?” Brawn asked, entirely sarcastic._ _

__Optimus let out a bark of laughter. “You are one of the few mechs that hasn't made me want to throw a chair at a wall.”_ _

__Brawn he reached out to up the speed. “Who else is on that exclusive list?” Optimus opened his mouth, then shut it and chuckled._ _

__“Would you believe me if I said Grimlock?” Optimus tried to hide his smile, but it broke out anyway. “I don't know why, but I sat down with Grimlock for lunch and we just... we bonded over how frustrated we were at everyone else.” Brawn tried not to smile. He could see that happening all too clearly with the way Optimus' mood had been swinging._ _

__He focused instead on his jog, building himself up to a run as Optimus lay back on the bench and stared at the ceiling. The quiet suited them both, Optimus fighting with his own thoughts and Brawn simply enjoying the silence. He used to count his steps, outmatch himself every day, but that proved pointless in the long term. All it did was wear him down and make him want to quit, so instead he kept time._ _

__Run for half an hour, a break, run for another half hour. His systems always hummed in appreciation after, his mind emptying of the days woes so he could crawl onto his berth ad recharge in peace. Some days it didn't always work, some days recharge was the last thing he was going to get._ _

__That didn't stop him from running though._ _

__“Brawn?” Optimus sat up on the bench._ _

__“Yeah?” He turned his head in acknowledgment, but didn't slow down._ _

__“... do you think this is why Megatron went off the rails as much as he did? Because there was something wrong that he couldn't figure out, and it ate away at him? Do you think it's going to eat away at me? Am I going to turn into him?” The more he spoke the more panic crept into his voice._ _

__Brawn shrugged. “Probably is what drove him crazy, but you won't.” He tapped the screen to slow his run, it was about time for a break. “You've got something Megatron never did.”_ _

__“Oh yeah, what's that?” Optimus asked, genuinely curious. Brawn slowed to a stop, stepping off the treadmill and reaching into his subspace for some coolant._ _

__“Good therapist for one.” Brawn smiled internally as Optimus threw his head back and laughed._ _


End file.
